Another One Goes By
by Elphaba and Her Boyfriends
Summary: The events of the "Prisoner of Azkaban" school year from the perspective of Hogwarts' overlooked Ancient Runes professor. Burbage gives advice, Lupin gets a girlfriend, Snape gets slapped and Hagrid enjoys some eggnog. No canon characters were harmed.
1. Prologue: The Litmus Test

On paper, what Clio Callimachus lacked in experience was balanced by ambition and intellectual ability. The old man hummed to himself as he studied her resume through half-moon spectacles.

She'd earned International Standard NEWTS in Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions and Transfiguration from the Salem Institute, then completed a year of additional study of Ancient Runes at the Runic Archives in Oslo, and a year-long field internship studying runestones throughout Northern Europe. For the past two years she'd worked in the Department of Ancient Artifacts at the Library of Alexandria as the youngest runemaster to be employed there this century. In addition to English, she claimed to speak fluent Greek and Norwegian.

She had published a paper on the use of ancient runes to create modern magical devices, and was one of just a handful of runemasters who boasted the ability to decode the even more ancient Greek precursors to the Germanic runes. The sample lesson plan and reading list she'd included were quite interesting. She was also an accomplished amateur photographer, and had won an award for her photos of sea nymphs; this was only relevant because the school's photography club was in need of an advisor.

If he was truthful, what had caught his eye about her resume among the stack that cluttered his desk was her family name. He lowered the paper, peering over his glasses at the young witch seated before him. Right now, in person, she projected cool detachment. She watched him impassively, legs crossed demurely beneath indigo robes, tanned fingers steepled in her lap, dark hair pulled back in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, lips set in a serene not-quite-smile. The only accessory she wore was a heavy black ring on her right hand.

At 22 she could be mistaken for a student. Her golden brown eyes roamed methodically over the papers cluttering his desk and the portraits on the walls, returning periodically to his hands, the top of his head, the tip of his beard, and occasionally meeting his own. Though she hid her nerves well, Dumbledore could feel her fear at being declared a fraud and summarily kicked out, could hear her imagining the school's heavy iron gates booming shut just inches from her nose. He guessed that her grasp of Norwegian was not as thorough as she claimed, but doubted that would cause her so much distress.

"Very impressive," He said kindly, then, gesturing to the rain-streaked window and the gray landscape beyond, What made you want to come back to Britain?"

"Oh, well, the Mediterranean is gorgeous," she said in low measured tones, her fluttering fingers betraying her nerves, "but I missed the seasons." She spoke with the careful enunciation of an American who has spent years trying to rid herself of an undesirable regional accent. Her Midwestern drawl still poked through at times, revealing itself with hard R's, short A's, long O's and occasional creative interpretation of syllables.

"My grandmother has a cottage in Galloway that's my very favorite place, out of everywhere I've visited." A sly half-smile edged it's way onto one side of her face as she continued. "Plus, I suppose I can't help but be drawn to any place with so much fascinating history."

"Fascinating, yes. Dangerous, too," he replied, eyes twinkling, thinking that he may have her figured out.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was a test. "Danger lurks everywhere in this world," she replied.

He smiled, "I believe I taught your grandmother Transfiguration many years ago, when I was a new professor."

"Yes, Hogwarts also holds a certain amount of personal interest for me," she responded cautiously, the fingers on her left hand reaching for the ring on her right and twisting it. "Gran's always spoken very highly of you. You taught my father, as well."

"Yes, I remember John Callimachus, he was one of the finest beaters the Ravenclaw quidditch team has ever known. There's a picture of him in one of the trophy cases from the year he set the school record for most unseatings in a single season."

She nodded and murmured, "I'd like to see it."

"You haven't taught before. I wonder, what makes you want to teach now?"

"I haven't taught formally, but I tutored many of my Ancient Runes classmates at Salem. I actually assisted with the younger classes during my seventh year. I enjoyed working in the Library, but I've always known it was temporary." She paused, left hand going for the ring once again. "Teaching will provide more challenge and more variety, I think."

"Yes, I agree," he said, feeling confident in his assessment. "Very well. Still, you'll be responsible for educating 150 students this year, leading the 5th years through their OWLs and the 7th years through their NEWTs That's a big responsibility."

"It is, but responsibility is something I'm well acquainted with," she said. Her words sounded scripted, as if they might have come straight from a manual, but her eyes didn't lie. They flared with an intensity that Dumbledore supposed some men might find captivating as she abandoned her carefully prepared answer.

"I think runes are, unfortunately, very undervalued by the magical community. Both as a link to the past and as a way of practicing magic going forward. It's important for wizards and witches to understand the roots of their culture and the magic they perform, and to understand the roots they need to understand the language they're recorded in." Her hands curled into fists, then relaxed.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled warmly behind their lenses. What she'd just said was all very true. It was the reason she was the youngest runemaster to be employed at the Library of Alexandria. Barring a cultural shift, the ranks of living runemasters would continue to dwindle. "And how will you impart that understanding?"

The half smile returned as she spoke, and the passion in her voice was unmistakable. "Well, it's in the lesson plan, but I believe in a holistic, hands-on approach. We'll start with the basics, learning the alphabet, identifying how runes are used in familiar artifacts around the castle, and what purpose they serve. And then begin translating texts, comparing the familiar English versions side by side with the original runes when possible. It's fascinating to see what gets lost in translation. I will also have them working with texts written in the precursors to the runes, so they can see how they developed over time." She paused, color rising in her cheeks.

The old man smiled, his bright blue eyes sparkling and said, "I see. What about practicing rune magic? Tell me what kind of magic would you teach Hogwarts' students?"

"Well, I've found runes are very useful for protective magic. Protective amulets and talismans are fairly straightforward. Seventh years could work on more advanced artifacts." She checked one pocket, then another =(cheeks coloring again) until she found the one that held a small, blue, wooden runemarked box. She set it spinning in the air with a quick and =subtle hand motion. With a second motion it began to play music, choosing the same song by the Weird Sisters that he'd heard that morning over the WWN. She snapped her fingers to shut the music off. "A music box like this is, unfortunately, not included in the NEWT examination, so it would be extra credit."

"Thank you, Miss Callimachus. Now, I must make a request of you, a simple task, really." He reached into his silken purple robes. "I would like you to try your hand at translating a text for me, if you don't mind."

Clio wasn't surprised at this request. She focused on deep breathing and a quiet mind, trying desperately not to think about screwing everything up on the last question, if she hadn't already screwed herself royally already. 'Danger lurks everywhere,' could she sound any more pretentious? And why had she even mentioned Norwegian on her resume? He pulled a very old leather-bound book from his robes and placed it in front of her on his desk.

"No, of course not," she said, picking it up and smiling as she read the title on the cover. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Where would you like me to begin?"

"You're familiar with the stories, I take it?" he asked, and she nodded. "Why don't you pick out your favorite, then."

"All right, that would be 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune.'"

"Why is that?"

That sly half-smile made another brief appearance. "I suppose I like the heroines, and it has a happy ending."

He smiled and gestured for her to proceed. She read the entire story to him, glancing up occasionally to gauge his reactions, and checking whether he was ready for her to stop. Her voice was deep and melodic, and she read the runic text without pause, as easily as if it were English. He appeared to be listening very interestedly, so she kept going until all three witches and the muggle knight had gained their fortunes.

"Thank you, that was a splendid reading," he said once she'd finished. She waited for him to comment further, or to ask her more questions about her teaching methods. Instead, he changed tacks.

"Who would you find more repulsive to work with: a werewolf or a Death Eater?"

She stared at him for a moment, cool reserve cracking, left hand clutching desperately at her right. "Is this a purely hypothetical question?"

When he didn't respond, she proceeded to answer the question with the first coherent thought that popped into her head. "Well, a werewolf is really only a werewolf once a month, while a Death Eater is a Death Eater every day, so I'll go with Death Eater."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Very reasonable thinking. Now, how would you feel about working with both a werewolf and a Death Eater?"

This had to be another test, she thought, anxiety beginning to visibly creep through her aloof exterior. Why had she answered his previous question so flippantly? "That would depend on the circumstances, I suppose. I would hope that this hypothetical Death Eater is no longer enamored of Big V, as He-Who-Must-not-Be-Named was not-so-affectionately known at Salem."

He chuckled again, "That's correct. Big V, I must say, is much catchier than He-Who-Must-not-Be-Named. Although, around here I always encourage people not to shy away from simply saying Voldemort."

Clio nodded, regretting the euphemism, even if he had chuckled at it. "Voldemort it is, then."

He stood up abruptly, so she stood as well, turning towards him as he circled around his desk, presumably to escort her out. Instead he stuck out one soft, worn hand, swallowing hers up in a warm handshake.

"Congratulations, Miss Callimachus, or Professor Callimachus, I should say."

Clio was stunned. "Wow, thank you."

"Now, do you have any questions for me?" he asked pointedly, his blue eyes piercing her soul.

She saw no point in subtlety under the absolute power of his gaze. "Yes, there is one, about salary..."

"Ahh, yes," he said, and with a flick of his wand conjured a parchment scroll and writing quill.

"Here's our standard probationary first-year contract. You'll be evaluated at the end of this year and then offered a regular long-term contract based on your performance and recommendations from the other staff. Paychecks will be deposited directly into your Gringotts account on the first of each month from September through June." He paused to clear his throat.

"I can also offer an advance equal to one half month's pay to take care of relocation expenses and any other loose ends. Room and board here at school are complementary, of course. If this meets with your approval than you may sign at the bottom."

Clio nodded as she quickly scanned over it. "Do the rooms come furnished?" she asked, attempting to sound casual.

"Yes, although you're welcome to provide your own furnishings, if you prefer. As you've already stated, however, the castle is full of fascinating artifacts. Our house elves do an excellent job of choosing items to suit the castle's inhabitants."

Her head snapped up. "House elves?"

"Yes, we couldn't keep the school running without them. So far I've been unable to convince any of them to accept a paycheck," he sighed.

She nodded and since the words were all running together in her excitement anyway, skipped to the bottom of the contract and scrawled her name. She wasn't fooling herself; she'd have signed it even if it meant having to wash Dumbledore's underwear for the entire year.

He smiled and clapped her on the back, "Now, you'll have plenty of opportunities to explore the castle and all the fascinating artifacts it contains, but right now I'd like to show you to your classroom and office."

She smiled back, still waiting for those gates to slam closed in her face.


	2. Friend & Protector

On second thought, going out on her own to photograph the dementors was a bad idea. She realized this as she struggled to breathe the frigid air that surrounded the spectral figure looming over her now. Her nose and throat stung as she expelled bright white puffs from her lungs. The dementor lowered its face towards hers; she no longer wanted to see what was under that hood. Too late. The events of the past two days began to flash before her eyes...

Clio had sent her books and clothes in a trunk ahead of her, and arrived at Hogwarts with only her wand, broom, dog, canvas messenger bag (packed with dog biscuits and a few other essentials), and the clothes on her back. Like many Americans of her generation, she preferred modern clothing to traditional wizards' robes.

When required to dress "wizard" she generally favored the style dubbed "Jedi Wear" in an ironic reference to _Star Wars_. The day was sunny and warm, and she'd stowed her outer robe in her bag. Now she was dressed in a sleeveless tunic, loose pants, and knee-high, soft-soled boots that hardly made a sound as she walked along the road from Hogsmeade. Her wand rode in a wide belt on her hip. Her shoulders and arms were brown from the Mediterranean sun, and strong from the sea.

"Nox, let's go," she said. The dog, a small jet black mongrel that most closely resembled a whippet, abandoned the bush she'd been intensely sniffing and jogged to catch up. Clio had to call her away from the left gate as they passed under the scrutiny of the winged boars to keep her from claiming it as her own.

When she'd arrived before for her interview she'd been escorted through the gates and up to the castle by Hagrid the groundskeeper, a giant bear of a man who she thought (despite his jolly demeanor) would make anyone think twice about attempting any kind of shenanigans. Now, she spoke the time-sensitive password that had been delivered to her by owl earlier that day, and the gates allowed her to pass through untroubled.

"There're plenty of trees here, Nox, anything metal or stone is off limits." The dog dropped her head and looked up at her mistress with sad brown eyes. A moment later she pricked her ears and trotted off across the lawn towards a gnarled willow.

"Not that one," Clio said. Dumbledore had already warned her about the whomping willow, as he'd gone over the list of things that were off-limits to students. Nox stopped abruptly and looked back over her shoulder.

"That one'll kill you. Any other tree, though." The dog's sides heaved as she made her way towards an oak tree near the cabin where Hagrid lived. Clio had already met his dog, who was approximately four times Nox's size. Size wouldn't deter the mutt from checking him out, however. Clio continued on towards the castle; Fang was docile and Nox would circle back towards her eventually.

She slackened her pace, enjoying the sun on her arms and drinking in the smells of grass and wildflowers. There was no sign of dementers, so far, something else Dumbledore had warned her about. By the time she reached the cool shade of the courtyard, Nox had found her way back, tongue lolling out one side of her mouth and perhaps a dozen small green burs clinging to each of her ears. The dog ran straight past her to the fountain in the middle of the yard for a drink. Clio was seated on the edge of the fountain, trying to coax the stubborn burrs out with her wand, when Hagrid ambled around a corner with a boisterous laugh.

"Here yeh are! Callimachus, righ'? Congratulations on becomin' our new ancient runes professor, I had a good feelin' when I met yeh at the gate."

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said, smiling as her own hand was swallowed up by his huge paw. "You can call me Clio." He towered over her, even bent over as he was to exchange greetings.

"Wha's this little 'un's name again?"

"Nox."

"Fang's a bit larger'n you," he said to the dog, "but he's a sweethear'. They'll enjoy playin' together."

"I'm sure they will."

Hagrid's smile broadened. "I s'pect you'll need time to unpack an' get settled, but as soon as you ge' bored come on down to me house for some tea. It's bin a while since we've had an American here."

"Well, technically I am British," said Clio, "It's a long story."

Hagrid lifted his shaggy eyebrows and chuckled. "Well, if yeh feel like sharin' it sometime, I'll break out the fire whiskey."

"It's a deal." She started to turn, and then thought of something else. "It pretty quiet around here, are the rest of the staff on vacation?"

"Filch's here, he's the caretaker, an' his ruddy cat – Nox doesn' chase cats, does she? You'll wan' to keep her away from tha' one. Dumbledore's away on business today, but he pops in an' out a lot. Madam Pince the librarian is here, and Madam Pomfrey the healer. Ev'ryone else should be rollin' in tomorrow or the nex' day. Students arrive on Wednesday."

Clio felt her stomach flip. She knew runes almost as well as English. She'd grown up in a mixed muggle-wizard household full of her father's books, and had begun learning to read them at the same time that she began reading Dr. Suess. Assisting with a class was a far cry from teaching one, though.

"Wednesday, already?" she murmured. She said goodbye to Hagrid, and walked through the main door to the castle. She ran her fingers lightly over the stone walls as she passed through. After growing up in America, she was awestruck by 1000-year-old buildings like this one.

Inside it was cool, dim and, for the moment, deserted. The clicking of Nox's toenails echoed throughout the castle as they made their way up the steps to Clio's small fifth-floor office. The door stood open, allowing the midday light that fell through the office window to spill out in the hall. The office was simply but tastefully furnished with a bird's eye maple desk and matching bookshelves.

Except for an elaborately painted Bronze Age vase, the shelves were bare. Nox sniffed excitedly around the desk, then plopped down on the pale blue Persian rug and rolled over onto her back, kicking her hind legs in the air. Clio went to the window. Looking to the right she saw more of the castle, but looking to the left she could see the lake in the distance.

Clio sighed; she had a lot of work to do before she could, in good conscience, go for a swim. She closed the door behind her and pointed her wand at it to set the password. "Wendigo," she said, guessing that not many here would be familiar with North American monsters.

She slipped her wand back into her belt and walked to the bookshelf that held the vase. It was decorated with a squid or octopus, and she smiled as she trailed her fingers over the tentacles. "Ready, Nox?" The dog leaped to her side as she rotated the vase counter-clockwise one-quarter turn.

The bookshelf n the left wall swung open to reveal a doorway to her bedchamber beyond. Light flooded the room through a large window that stretched from a cushioned bench seat up to the ceiling. The distant lake sparkled in the sunlight, and she spotted a thestral circling leisurely overhead.

To the right of the window was a fireplace flanked by mismatched blue arm chairs. To the left of the window, the same maple that was used in the office supplied another book shelf, wardrobe and four-poster bed. She caught the dog eying it hopefully. "Uh-uh, Nox, you get your own bed. That one's mine."

Her trunk sat waiting in a corner. With a few waves of her wand, she hung her robes, tunics, pants and cloak from the top rack of the wardrobe; sorted the jeans, t-shirts, flannels, socks and underwear into separate drawers; and arranged her collection of sandals, sneakers, boots, and one lonely pair of heels at the bottom.

Nox's soft wool bed sprung out and settled near the head of her own. She'd be able to reach down and scratch the dog behind her ears during the night. Food and water bowls and an assortment of chew toys and balls tumbled out next, guaranteeing that the dog would be kept busy for at least an hour. "Aguamenti," she said, and the water bowl filled to the brim.

With another flick, Clio's wand sent most of her books (professional reading on runes, ancient magic, and a few recent purchases on modern teaching methods) flying through the doorway to the empty bookshelf in her office, where they arranged themselves by subject. A few (maps, muggle graphic novels and science fiction, photo albums and yearbooks from her seven years at Salem) stayed behind, setting themselves into the bookshelf by the bed.

Finally, a few knickknacks popped out. She carried each one carefully to the office and arranged them by hand, being careful not to bump the ancient vase which she suspected was worth more than everything else she had ever owned put together. Her treasures included stone tablets, a papyrus scroll in a wooden case, a vintage wizard camera that had belonged to her grandfather, a couple of film projectors (deceptively simple little boxes), an assortment of amulets and talismans, a hand-carved wooden runeset and a quodpot quaffle etched with runes to keep it from exploding.

Finally, she unloaded the essentials from her messenger bag. She set her own wizard camera and the accompanying pouch of accessories on the book shelf by her bed. Her case of runemaking tools went to the top drawer of her desk. A dog cookie flew into Nox's food bowl. Her blue music box settled itself next to her camera. Clio tapped it with her wand, and music began to play softly. She fell backward onto the bed to think, and floated away on the gentle stream of sound created by the acoustic guitars, strings and drums of Band of Centaurs. Ten minutes later she was sound asleep, the music melding with the sound of Nox gnawing away on a bone.

Clio never made it to her classroom that day. She woke from her nap feeling famished and lonely, and so walked down to Hagrid's. They never got around to discussing her family history. Instead, Hagrid talked nonstop about the various creatures that lived on and around the school grounds as she drank tea from one of his enormous mugs and choked down a very dry and heavy scone. Then they'd taken a walk by the lake and through a nicer, sunnier part of the forest. Clio was most excited at the prospect of meeting centaurs, but wasn't disappointed at not seeing them once Hagrid took her to see the hippogriffs. After bowing to each of them in turn, she'd spent nearly an hour petting and photographing them all so that none would feel left out.

Clio set up her classroom the next morning. It was on the second floor of the castle, and she discovered that it was already relatively clean thanks to Filch's upkeep. She'd met Filch at dinner the night before and tried to strike up a conversation. He'd only frowned into his soup as she talked, and actually snarled when she mentioned her dog. The rest of the meal had passed very quietly, interrupted only by a loud belch from Hagrid and her own giggling at it.

The classroom was a bit stuffy from being shut up all summer long, and smelled slightly of dungbomb. As she rarely did anything without music, she set her box spinning in the air and sang along as she worked. A fresh grade ledger and empty seating chart was already waiting on the podium at the front of the room. She found older ledgers, one for each year, arranged chronologically in the cabinets at the back of the room. She counted 25 years in the first drawer she opened at random, and 42 drawers total.

After a perfunctory dusting, she arranged a few books and scrolls, a couple of good owl feather quills, and a fresh bottle of ink on the podium. She soon became painfully aware that the dungbomb smell permeated the room. She could try to disguise the smell with a perfume charm, but fresh air would work far better. Clio's stinging eyes turned to the windows lining one side of the room, which all appeared to be painted shut.

Frustrated by the stench, she pointed her wand at the nearest window.

"Alohomora," she commanded. The glass shook in the pane, as if it wanted to open but couldn't quite, and a few flakes of paint floated down to the floor. Clio walked to the window and tried to lift it manually. It gave a little, and a few more paint flakes fell, but there was still at least one more layer of paint holding it fast.

"Alohomora," she commanded again. The window trembled so that she thought it might break. Paint showered down all around, but there was yet more paint holding the frame in place. Clio sighed then, grasping the window with both hands, pulled upwards with her entire body. After a brief struggle, she felt the window give and it flew suddenly upwards in a veritable storm of dried paint. White flakes clung to her dark brown hair and black t-shirt like oversized dandruff.

Clio sucked in a noseful of the fresh clean air wafting in from outdoors.

"One window down," she muttered, "Four more to go." Fifteen minutes later, trembling from the exertion and covered head to toe in decades-old paint, Clio reveled in the green smells of the nearby forest.

"Huh, I didn't even know those windows could open," sang a high female voice from the open doorway. Clio spun around, and found herself looking at another witch who had to be close to her own age. She was about the same height but with slimmer shoulders and rounder curves, long blond curls, blue eyes and a wide mouth that was currently stretched in a smile. She was dressed in dark jeans, platform sandals and a floaty teal blouse with gold hoops in her ears and around both wrists. Clio was suddenly very conscious that she was wearing her rattiest pair of jeans, with holes in both knees and strings dragging from both cuffs. She was also covered in paint chips.

"They were a little stubborn," she said with a shrug, sounding as effortlessly cool as possible.

"I'm Charity," said the blond witch, extending her hand. "I teach muggle studies." Clio offered her own grubby hand for a quick shake.

"Clio," she said, "ancient runes."

"Glad to meet you, even if it means that the already small pool of eligible bachelors around Hogsmeade may become even smaller," Charity said.

Clio smiled crookedly, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I recently ended a relationship and am not interested in jumping into another one."

Charity laughed. "So, you're just looking for a rebound." Clio's eyes slid sideways in mild embarrassment. Charity continued, "So what are we listening to?"

"This is Merlin's Beard," Clio said. Charity just stared at her blankly, so she added, "They're American, they've got a sort of a post-grunge, alternative-folk kind of sound."

"Oh. Do you have any American muggle music?"

"Yeah, I've got some R.E.M., Pearl Jam, Lenny Kravitz, Indigo Girls, Smashing Pumpkins, Tom Petty, Prince … I have a mix." Music was a topic she was much more comfortable with.

"Great, I may like to borrow some for class sometime, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she said. "That's just my newer stuff, I've got older stuff, too."

"I'm so glad there will be another young singleton to hang out with!" Aurora, Professor Sinistra, is fairly young and I love her to death, but she's also married and so far I've been lucky to drag her out once a year."

"Where is there to go around here? Hogsmeade seems pretty..."

"Small? Yeah. We should hit the Three Broomsticks for lunch." Charity moved closer and lowered her voice a bit before adding, "I can give you the scoop on all the rest of the staff."

"Sure." Clio paused to flick a paint chip from her hair, "I should probably clean up a bit first. How about one o'clock?"

"It's a plan. I'll meet you in your office," said Charity, grinning as she skipped out.

Clio obliterated the drifts of paint chips that had collected on the floor, then hurried back to her room for a bath. She'd discovered the night before that the bathroom was the most spectacular portion of her new living quarters. A living wall of plants divided the toilet area from the deep, blue-tiled tub.

Calling it a tub actually did it a disservice. She estimated that the diving well in the center was eight feet deep, and that ten people could sit comfortably around the shallow sides. She'd filled it and then enchanted the water so that it would purify anything without having to be emptied or replenished; a spell she'd picked up in Egypt, where water was precious and scarce.

Clio stripped off her filthy clothes and slipped into the cool water, swimming down to sit on the bottom for a moment before returning to the shallower edge to scrub the paint out of her hair. Her pomegranate shampoo disintegrated as soon as she dipped her head under the surface. She floated on the surface for a few minutes, marveling that she could extend her fingers and toes without hitting the sides. She just hoped that she could keep the plants alive. Herbology had been her worst subject. Her father and older sister were both skilled gardeners, but she'd inherited her muggle mother's black thumb.

She had just finished dressing when she heard Charity's light rapping on the outer office door.

"Come on in!" Clio called, and the door sprang open to emit her new friend. The blond witch made a fuss over Nox, who greeted her with a bone in her mouth and a wagging tail. Clio grabbed her camera on their way out, planning to finish a roll and test out the photo lab once she got around to setting it up.

The witches exchanged school and work histories on their walk into town. Charity had graduated from Hogwarts just a year before Clio had finished at Salem. She'd spent two years studying muggles undercover before publishing a best-selling memoir of her experiences. This would be her third year of teaching at Hogwarts. She was fascinated by Clio's mostly muggle upbringing, and as a dyed-in-the-wool Hufflepuff, she couldn't get over the fact that Salem didn't sort its students by magical means.

"So how do you get placed in housing?"

"The system is random, unless you have legacy status. First year, you pick your top 3 hall choices, and assignments are made based on that. For all the other years there's a lottery. You can pull up to 8 people into a hall on one number, so all your housemates pool their numbers, and the best ones pull the others into a hall."

"So, you could be in one house one year, and another house another year?"

"Yeah, although, there's a difference between your house and your hall. A _house_ is a group of people, a _hall_ is just the building where your house lives. Houses are small, so one hall will have several houses living in it. So, if you're in Order of the Badger, for instance – that's the Hufflepuff legacy house – and you live in Fairchild Hall this year, and _next_ year you decide to move to Jones Hall because it has a better view, then you could take the Order of the Badger with you.

"That's just bizarre," Charity said, shaking her head. "So what house were you in?"

"We started a new house my second year, Mugblood House. I'm still in touch with most of the Mugbloods."

They'd just reached the inn, and Charity stopped, her hand on the door, anger mingled with horror twisting her face. "You called yourself what?"

Clio was prepared for her reaction. "Mugbloods – with a _g_. We started with all muggleborns and halfbloods." Charity gaped at her. "The legacy houses, like Order of the Badger, are reserved for students with a blood relative who was a member. They actually exclude muggleborns, or they let in one or two so they can say they're 'progressive.' Mugblood House and one other, Enoch Banana, were the only ones that actively recruited them while I was there."

"Oh," Charity looked more sick than angry now, "That's so sad. It's like you've got multiple Slytherin houses."

Clio shrugged. "I think it will change over time. There was a surge of pureblood mania in the States around the time of Big V's, I mean Voldemort's, reign, but it's fading, now."

Charity cringed at the name. "So Dumbledore's obviously gotten to you. I still can't say it."

"It does feel weird," Clio agreed.

They were soon settled at a table with drinks – gin and tonic for Charity, beer for Clio – and a platter of fish and chips. Clio ordered extra chips, since she didn't eat meat. A few other patrons milled about, including a couple of wizards who were, as Charity put it, "Nice enough, but not worth breaking out the new panties for."

"Okay," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "You've met Hagrid, who is basically a giant teddy bear." Clio nodded, flashing her crooked half smile.

"Madam Pomfrey comes off all stern, but she keeps boxes of monthly supplies and birth control tea outside her office that you can grab from any time, no questions asked. Filch is..." Charity made a gagging face, "rumor has it that he and Madam Pince, the librarian, are an item. I don't know if it's true, but she's a dried up old prune, so they're perfect for each other. Speaking of the library, the books all have hexes on them and Pince will not cut you any slack if you're late turning any in, so my advice to you is, if you want to borrow a book, just wipe out the hexes. Don't bother checking it out. Then just sneak it back whenever you're done with it."

Clio nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a chip.

Charity took another sip before going on. "Madam Hooch teaches flying. If you need to borrow a broom she's the one to ask."

"I've got one, but good to know."

Charity raised an eyebrow and nodded. "She'll probably be very interested in hearing about American Quidditch … Quo-Quodart?"

"Quodpot."

"Right. Aurora, I mentioned, anyway she teaches astronomy and is totally cool. She's just a few years older than us and lives with her husband in the castle during the school year. During the summer they live in London. He comes into Hogsmeade every morning to commute to work and she teaches only at night, so you'll only ever see them at dinner. They're such a cute couple," she added, sounding a bit envious.

"How did they meet?"

"In school. They're both Ravenclaws." She took another sip, her fair cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "Septima Vector teaches Arithmancy. She's pleasant enough, but standoffish. I don't think she's said more than ten words to me in a row during the entire the time I've been here. Now, Sybill Trelawney teaches Divination. She's a bit ... special. You'll know what I mean as soon as you meet her. Just watch for her googly eyes." Charity held her hands up in front of her face like a pair of gigantic glasses. "Then there's the ghost; Professor Binns teaches history."

Clio rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, I ran into him last night."

"Whatever you do, don't let him trap you into a conversation. He will literally go on forever."

"Too late," Clio grimaced. "How long has he been teaching here?"

"You know, I'm not quite sure. I think he's been a ghost far longer than he was alive. You didn't let on that you're at all interested in history, did you?" Clio shook her head. "Good, because if he finds out he will never leave you alone."

"Got it, although, that may be hard given my subject."

"If you see him floating towards you, then just flee. Or start talking about something he knows nothing about, like the latest fashions."

"Or modern music?" Clio grinned, washing down another chip with a swig of beer.

Charity nodded, her gin and tonic was almost gone. "Okay, now there's the heads of houses. Professor Sprout is the herbology professor and head of Hufflepuff house," Charity paused to cup her hands over her heart, making Clio snort beer up her nose. "She's like a big soft pillow that you just want to squeeze."

"Does she make house calls for plants?"

Charity cocked her head, "What do you mean?"

"There're a ton of plants in my bathroom that I know I'm going to kill if I don't get help with them."

"I've never heard of her doing house calls, but you should ask. I doubt she would say no."

"Awesome. Sorry, go on."

"Where was I? Oh yes, Professor Flitwick is charms professor and head of Ravenclaw. He is so cute, I mean, he's like a tiny little doll that you just want to play with. Literally, he's maybe, three feet tall. I think he's part goblin, but anyway, he's really nice. And tiny." Clio chuckled. Charity's eyes widened.

"I didn't mean it like that!" she said, tossing a chip at Clio, which the other witch caught in her mouth.

"I have excellent reflexes," Clio said around her mouthful of chip.

"Ooh, we'll have to bust that talent out at the next staff party," Charity said jokingly. "Anyway, where was I? Professor McGonagall is head of Griffyndor and also assistant headmistress. She's very stern and very Scottish, but unlike Pince she has a heart. She should be at dinner tonight. You'll get along with her fine as long as you're not lazy or rude." Charity frowned, "On second thought, maybe no talent show. She's a no-nonsense kind of lady."

"She sounds a lot like my grandmother," Clio sighed.

"Then there's Professor Snape." Charity blew out a puff of air. "Oh, where to begin? He's the head of Slytherin and the potions master, and … I believe the muggles would call him "emo" or "goth." Anyway, he only wears black and has long black hair and he literally lives in the dungeon."

"He can also be an asshole, although, I'm not entirely sure that he does it on purpose. If you make a mistake, he won't let you forget it, ever. I said "oblivate" once instead of "obliterate" and he still brings it up." Clio chuckled again; the beer had definitely gone to her head.

"It's not funny! Well, okay, it was at the time, but after two years it's just annoying." Charity lowered her voice and leaned closer for her next revelation. "Also, rumor has it he used to be a Death Eater."

"Really?" Clio frowned thoughtfully. "That partially explains the odd questions during my interview with Dumbledore."

"Weird isn't it, that Dumbledore would trust him? He supposedly recanted before You-Know-Who's downfall and seems to have reformed." Charity took a final sip of her drink.

"My family left Britain because of the Death Eaters," Clio said, brow furrowed.

"A lot of families did," said Charity. "Don't worry about Snape, though, just don't expect him to be friendly. It's not you, it's everyone. We all just pretend that we don't know, and it's never talked about." Clio nodded absentmindedly.

"So where was I? Oh yeah, Defense Against the Dark Arts. There's a new professor there, as well. There's a new one every year." She leaned in again. "A lot of people say that the position is cursed, and I'm starting to believe it. The new guy is named Remus Lupin. I haven't met him yet, but he's supposedly a very nice man. Single, too. He's also a werewolf." She sighed. "I don't expect the curse to be broken this year."

She sighed again. "So that's everyone you need to know at Hogwarts. Bottom line is: no one is dateable. Which is why I come here; where I am almost always sorely disappointed."

"Ah, well," Clio murmured, polishing off her beer and thinking that that explained the other half of the odd interview questions. She regretted her flippant answer even more now, and hoped that Dumbledore hadn't thought she was prejudiced. Of course, he wouldn't have hired her if he did, would he? "Ready for another round? I'll buy."

"Absolutely." Charity abruptly changed subjects, then. "So, tell me more about the differences between American and British muggles. You don't mind me picking your brain, right?"

Clio popped another chip into her mouth, "Not at all."

They were both very giggly when they sauntered back to the main gate, at least they were until they saw the two dementors looming above it. The smiles drained from their faces as the wraithlike creatures sniffed the air around them.

"Neither one of us is Sirius Black, so you can shove off," Charity said testily. The spectral shapes just stared emptily back. Clio started to raise her camera, but Charity grabbed her and pulled her through the gate. "Are you nuts? You can't stop like that." Clio walked backwards, composing the shot in her head as they retreated toward the castle. She would have to come back later.

She got the opportunity that evening when she took Nox out for her last walk before bed. The dementors were still hanging above the gate, silhouetted against the dusky sky. Nox was not interested in going anywhere near them, and began to whine when Clio gripped her wand in her left hand and continued walking.

She stopped just inside the gate, raised her camera with her right hand and waited until one of the creatures turned towards her. She hit the shutter and racked the zoom lens, letting the dementor loom closer and closer until, finally, she could feel it's foul breath. The world grew cold, darkness closed around her and her vision tunneled down.

This is where she found herself now, as her thoughts caught up with the present. Her camera arm felt suddenly heavy and she let it fall. How easy it would be to close her eyes and offer her mouth to it... Something within her wasn't ready to give up. Survival instinct kicked in, raising her wand. Her lips had gone numb, and with great effort she muttered, "Expecto Patronum," willing Domino into existence. A silver spark shot up from her wand and bloomed into the border collie who'd been her constant companion since birth (first as a flesh and blood dog and now as her immortal watchdog).

He took off like a streak, circling the dementor, barking and nipping at the shreds of its cloak. It twisted up and away in distress, and stopped 20 yards or so beyond the gate, not daring to come any closer as Domino snarled and barked. Clio retreated, shivering, toward the castle, whistling for both dogs. Domino circled around her, leaping through the air over imaginary hedges, then coming down to earth to chase after Nox, who had gotten over her fright. Clio let them chase each other until she reached the castle, where (still trembling) she called Domino back to her.

"Good boy," she whispered, and he faded into oblivion.


	3. The Death Eater & The Werewolf

Fear shifted into an inexplicable giddiness as Clio made her way up to her room. She'd survived a close encounter with a dementor, and had a photograph to prove it. Now she couldn't stop laughing, and tossed and turned for most of the night; finally getting up once the sky looked more gray than black.

She dressed and went straight to the dungeon-level photo lab with her camera and music box. The windowless dungeons, while cold and gloomy, were ideally suited for a dark room. She'd mixed up fresh batches of developing potions after dinner the night before, and planned to develop a few prints before breakfast so that she could spend the rest of the morning reviewing her lesson plans. Then, perhaps, she would have time for a dip in the lake that afternoon.

There are two potions needed to develop wizard images, and both require many ingredients. She'd been pleasantly surprised to find the cabinets adequately stocked with supplies, including the large earthenware jugs that the volatile potions required for storage. Now she popped the cork on her first potion and took a whiff. Pungent; perfect. She turned up the music, extinguished the lantern on the wall, and set to work by feel.

Clio's taste in music ran the gamut from mournfully slow to hyper-frenetic. Today she was in the mood for Dragonhead: purveyors of drum-heavy, experimental trip-hop featuring instruments constructed from machinery salvaged from muggle junkyards. Soon she had a dozen finished prints fluttering about the lab like new butterflies drying their wings.

She had restored the light and was rinsing her tools when she heard someone pounding on the door. The music still screeching and thwonking in the background, she slid it open and found herself practically nose to nose with a surly black-haired, black robed wizard. They stared at each other for a moment, he with arms crossed against his chest, brow furrowed, and mouth drawn into a frown; she with her left hand clasping her wand at her hip.

His deep-set, black-brown eyes bored into her lighter brown ones. Her first thought was that Dream from _The Sandman_ comics had come to visit, but then Charity's words "emo or goth" sparked recognition in her brain. The Death Eaters that had populated her childhood nightmares were all tall and Nordic looking. He was just a couple of inches taller than herself. Charity had also neglected to mention the large schnozz. She relaxed her wand hand and one side of her mouth pulled back into its lopsided grin.

"You must be Professor Snape."

He regarded her coldly for a moment; of course Hagrid or Charity would have gossiped. How much did she know? On the surface, her mind was as still and reflective as a flat sea. His eyes flickered over her form-fitting _Doctor Who_ t-shirt and ratty jeans, then swept upwards to the prints floating above her head. To Clio he appeared momentarily distracted by something, but then a shrill metallic whine snapped him out of it.

"What is that ghastly noise?" He asked with a sneer. "I woke up under the impression that Peeves had decided to amuse himself by smashing the crockery."

"What noise?" Her smile dissolved. "Oh, that's Dragonhead. They are a bit of an acquired taste."

"Ah, well, let us hope that there is a cure for your affliction," he said silkily. "Tell me, will you often find it necessary to make my ears bleed at six o'clock in the morning?"

Clio's half-smile returned, "Is that a rhetorical question?"

He scowled, "My office is next door. The wall is thick enough to block many noises, but not, unfortunately, that," he snapped, gesturing to the spinning blue box with one long, pale finger.

"Oh," Clio's smile vanished again. Charity had told her that he lived in the dungeon, and she'd forgotten. He resumed staring at her with a glint in his eyes (of triumph, she supposed, at having flustered her). She silenced the music with a subtle flick of her wand, feeling doubly irritated at being disturbed and now at having to apologize.

"Well, I'm sorry for bothering you, but, obviously, I didn't know anyone was in the room next door or that they'd be able to hear my music. And, no, I normally won't be working this early, but I have a lot to get done today."

He glared at her, his eyes glittering, and Clio was sure for a moment that he knew she'd glossed over her insomnia. Then he muttered, "Shall I assume you found all the ingredients you need for your developing potions, and they were all satisfactory?" His gaze roved restlessly over the cabinets and work space.

"Yes, everything was fine," she paused, considering the implications of his question. "Do you do that, stocking everything?"

"I have been, but I'm more than happy to turn it over to you, provided you're up to the challenge," he said, lip curling slightly. He swept past her, uncorked one of the jugs of developing potion, and sniffed it.

"Of course," she said, irritation building. "I'm Clio, by the way."

"I know who you are, Professor Callimachus," he said, sneering again. "This smells strongly of silver bromide."

Clio rolled her eyes, "Yes, I find a higher concentration produces a richer image; it's a matter of aesthetic taste."

The prints were now all dry, and she called them to her with an angry swish of her wand. They landed one by one on her outstretched hand, which she tilted so that he could see them as they came to rest. There were several photos of the hippogriffs, Hagrid slurping tea from a pitcher, Charity looking back over her shoulder as she walked along the wildflower-lined road to Hogsmeade, Nox and Fang play-wrestling, Mrs. Norris giving her the evil eye, Peeves pelting her with pistachios, and the last one on the pile was the spectral form of the dementor looming over her head.

Snape leaned in for a closer look at this one. The dementor appeared to lunge at the camera lens, practically popping off of the paper at them.

"I see," he murmured. His eyes darted from the photograph to her face. She was too proud of herself to conceal her thoughts about it, and they bubbled up to the surface without any effort from him.

"Was this your first encounter with a dementor?" he asked.

"No," she replied nonchalantly, not mentioning that the first time had been the previous afternoon with Charity.

"And has your curiosity been satisfied?"

She shrugged, "We'll be seeing a lot of them, I suppose."

His lip curled as he replied icily, "Dementors are not to be taken lightly. Hope that you never see one so close ever again, but if you do and survive with your soul intact, then eat a little chocolate, immediately."

"It looks closer than it really is," she murmured, "because of the zoom lens." Feeling foolish as well as irritated under his scrutiny, she backed away and dropped the prints into her portfolio. She felt his glare as she picked up her camera and plucked the music box from the air.

"What kind of music do you like?" she asked. When he just stared at her with his cold eyes, she continued. "The next time I'm working down here I can play something you'll find less annoying."

"I like silence."

"I'm not familiar with them," she said with a straight face, glancing around the lab to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything, then back at him, waiting for a reaction.

"Very funny," he said, voice dripping sarcasm. "Is there anything that you take seriously?"

"Another rhetorical question?" She asked, her crooked smile creeping back. He still wasn't showing any intention of leaving, so Clio walked out herself. He followed her into the hallway like a shadow.

"Fine," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "How about I don't turn the music on before seven am, and promise to keep the volume to a moderate level?" Casting one last slightly less-hostile glance her way, he nodded curtly and disappeared into his office.

The staff table was mostly full when Clio arrived for breakfast an hour later. Professor McGonagall greeted her with a stiff, "Good morning," while eyeing her clothing critically. If she disapproved at least she kept it to herself. Clio made a point of not looking directly at Professor Snape, who was hunched over the _Daily Prophet_, but thought she caught him smirk out of the corner of her eye.

Professors Sprout and Flitwick both smiled and nodded hello as she made her way to the other end of the table. Hagrid always sat at the very end, because his great size made it the most convenient spot for him. Next to him sat Charity, and Clio after her. For some reason, Professor Binns insisted on floating around that side of the table despite the fact that, as a ghost, he never ate or drank anything. This was definitely the fun side of the table, apart from Binns. Dumbledore was seated between Binns and Flitwick today.

She was nervous about eating with Dumbledore, but quickly discovered that he took himself much less seriously than many other wizards she knew who were much less great than him. Charity was flipping through the fresh stack of photographs (all except the dementor, which Clio had left in her portfolio) when Clio mentioned that she might take a swim in the lake that afternoon to shoot the giant squid. Dumbledore swallowed a bite of sausage and chimed in.

"He especially likes the north end. You'll see him hanging just below the surface on a warm day like today."

"Thanks. Got any other tips?"

"Watch out for the grindylows, and have your wand ready just in case. And, say-" Here he produced an ear-splitting screech that caused everyone along the length of the table to whip their heads around, "to the merpeople for me."

"Merpeople, seriously? You just said 'hello,' and not, oh, 'bite me', right?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly, "Oh yes. They may appear hostile at first, but once they see you're just there to take pictures and not stealing their fish they'll leave you alone."

"Hmm, okay," Clio said, wondering now if a swim was such a good idea.

"How do you plan on diving?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"Gillyweed."

"Ah, excellent. It's a pity it doesn't grow around here."

"I stocked up right before leaving Alexandria, so I've got plenty if you're interested, Headmaster."

The old man laughed heartily and clapped her on the shoulder, "Not today, I'm afraid, but Professors Sprout or Snape may be up for it."

Clio and Charity exchanged horrified faces at the mention of Snape.

"Take Pomona with you," Charity said.

After breakfast, Clio spent three hours revising her lesson plans and grading rubriks. She hauled her books and music box up to Charity's office, and Aurora brought her books down from the astronomy tower. The three witches sprawled themselves over the couch, easy chair and floor. Clio felt out of place next to tall, elegant and refined Aurora, dressed in perfectly-ironed blue satin robes. As she listened to them talking and laughing together, Clio had to acknowledge that while Aurora wasn't someone she wouldn't normally hang out with, she was genuinely nice.

The day remained sunny, so that afternoon all three of them and Professor Sprout adjourned to the lake. Clio finally had a chance to ask her about the plants in her bathroom, which she had taken to calling the Garden of Babylon. The short squat witch was more than happy to come check on them and give her a "remedial herbology lesson" as Clio called it. Charity and Aurora swam in a warm sandy section while the other two swallowed clammy clumps of the wormlike weed and ventured deeper.

The lake water was both colder and murkier than the Mediterranean, and Clio was glad to have a diving partner who was already familiar with the terrain. The grindylows were also wary of Professor Sprout, and most swam hard for the deepest thickets of weeds as they approached. They easily deterred the few that charged them with a stinging hex.

Once they cleared the weeds, Sprout motioned for Clio to stop. They hung suspended in the water for several minutes, waiting for the squid. Clio began snapping images of Professor Sprout, whose legs had practically doubled in length with the addition of the magical fins the gillyweed produced.

She was just about to lower her camera when the already dim sun was completely swallowed by a dark veil. A gigantic pair of eyes peered down from the darkness, and several long sucker-spangled tentacles shot out. Clio triggered the camera shutter just as the tentacles enveloped her. She froze, sure for a moment that she had made a terrible mistake and that this was the end, unless Professor Sprout could save her. Then the tentacles patted her gently and pulled back. The suckers tickled a little, but left her skin unscathed.

Clio expended most of her film roll on the curious squid, which was only too willing to pose, sending a moire pattern of alternating colors rippling through it's skin. She moved in a circle around it, getting a panoramic view. She took a few shots of Professor Sprout with the beast for scale, and then handed the camera over so she could have a picture of herself with it, too.

Suddenly, the squid shot off, leaving a cloud of ink in its wake. Clio was puzzled as to what could have spooked him until she turned and saw half a dozen mermen approach, all brandishing spears. Despite their ferocity they looked young, perhaps adolescent. Clio glanced to Professor Sprout, who nodded that they were okay.

She smiled at them and held up the camera to get a picture, the very last one on the roll. Just as she released the shutter, the boys flashed them and swam off, screeching with what Clio guessed was laughter. Professor Sprout appeared to be laughing now too, as she gestured that they should surface. Clio nodded and started her ascent. The gillyweed would be wearing off very shortly.

Back on the water's edge, Professor Sprout laughed riotously.

"Did I just see what I think I saw?" Clio asked.

Sprout laughed harder, and Clio promised to share the pictures once they were developed.

The teachers all assembled in the staff room the next morning for their first official meeting of the year. Clio gazed about the room as everyone settled into the mismatched armchairs. She'd met everyone at that point other than Professor Lupin, who had yet to arrive, and Professor Trelawney.

Professor Dumbledore had just cleared his throat to speak when the door creaked open just enough to emit a frail woman wearing Coke-bottle glasses and shimmering orange robes.

"Ah, Sybill, you've decided to join us," Dumbledore said. "Please sit down," he added, as she wavered by the door."

"After noon would have been a more fortunate time for a meeting, I'm afraid," she said. "I sense that nothing productive will come out of this morning." Charity bumped Clio's arm with her elbow, and the two exchanged the slightest of smiles as Professor Trelawney walked up and down the room in search of an acceptable chair, finally settling into the one closest to the door – the very first one that she had passed a few minutes before. Clio noticed plastered-on smiles on several of the other faces in the room, and a vein pulsing on the side of Professor McGonagall's head.

"Nevertheless, we shall try our best. I intend to keep this meeting short," Dumbledore said. Clio continued to scan the other faces in the room as Dumbledore spoke.

"First of all, as I'm sure all of you are aware by now, the school is under the guard of dementors." A chorus of grumbles and sighs rose up in response. "The Ministry has insisted on their presence here to protect the staff and students from Sirius Black, who escaped from Azkaban over the summer." Many eyes rolled when Dumbledore said "protect."

Dumbledore continued, "He hasn't been seen anywhere near Hogwarts, of course, but we must operate under the assumption that he will seek out Harry Potter. It goes without saying, of course, that I am to be notified at any sign of Sirius Black." Clio noticed Snape's eyes narrow when Dumbledore said "Potter." She looked away casually when he caught her noticing.

"Under no circumstances are the dementors to be allowed inside the school grounds. If you see one anywhere inside the gate, then alert me immediately; or one of the heads of houses if I cannot be reached. I trust that all of you have been practicing the patronus charm?" Clio nodded to herself.

"A successful patronus could literally mean the difference between life and, well, a fate worse than death for yourself or a student. Finally, I must discourage all of you from leaving the castle alone at night. If you go out after dark, then find someone to accompany you."

Clio's heart skipped a beat. Had Snape tattled to Dumbledore about her photograph? When she turned toward him, she caught Snape's eyes darting away. Her own eyes narrowed.

"Students, of course, will be forbidden from wandering the grounds after dark. Don't hesitate to use house point deductions in order to deter them from disobeying. Some of you need no reminder, there," Dumbledore added, directing his gaze at Professor Snape as he did. This drew chuckles from many of the other teachers in the room, including Charity, and Clio swore she caught the barest hint of a smile pull at his lips, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Now that we've got that out the way, you've noticed by now of course that we have new teaching staff with us." He gestured to Clio and Hagrid, who blushed and beamed as he was recognized. "Professor Remus Lupin will be arriving this evening on the train. I thought it best to have him there to protect the students on their way to us today, from the dementors more than anything else." Many of the teachers nodded approvingly at this, but Snape scowled.

"Minerva, I believe you have an announcement?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, thank you Albus," she said, standing up tall in her crimson velvet robes. "The house sorting will begin this evening at six o'clock, sharp. It will be followed immediately by the start of term feast. Everyone is expected to be there, on time," she emphasized, looking sharply at Professor Trelawney, then turned to look directly at Clio, "and properly dressed." Clio felt her face grow warm, and fought to keep herself from looking down at her jeans. Was everyone staring at her? She concentrated her gaze at a fixed point on the wall straight ahead. She felt Charity bump her arm, but refrained from looking at her.

"Thank you, Minerva," said Dumbledore, "Are there any other announcements? Discussion, then?"

Professor Flitwick piped up. "How long can we expect the dementors to remain?" he asked.

"Until Sirius Black is apprehended or leaves the area," Dumbledore responded.

"But what if he's never caught? They won't be stationed here permanently, will they?"

"I should certainly hope not," said Dumbledore. "I'm not comfortable having them here at all, even if they are kept outside the school grounds. None of you should become comfortable with their presence, either. I've allowed them here only at the insistence of the Ministry, and I'm afraid here they'll remain until the Ministry changes its mind." There was a lot of grumbling following his statements.

"Well, off with you then, enjoy your last afternoon of freedom before the students arrive."

Clio had risen from her chair to stretch, and was about to follow Charity over to the corner where she was talking to Aurora when Professor Trelawney caught hold of her arm.

"It's good to meet you, my dear, I'm picking up a very positive aura from you."

"Um, thank you."

"Tell me, when were you born? I'd be happy to give you a full astrological reading this afternoon to start you off on the right foot,"

"Oh, uh, actually I was going to-" Clio gestured towards the door, but was cut off before she could fabricate an excuse to get away.

"No wait! Don't tell me, you are obviously a Leo!"

"Actually, my birthday's November 5th."

Professor Trelawney's face fell, and she backed away. "Oh, oh, you're a scorpio?"

"Remember, remember the 5th of November..." Clio began to chant, and Charity chimed in with, "Gunpowder, treason, and plot." Dumbledore joined in for the second verse of the rhyme, "I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot."

Professor Trelawney skittered out of the room, muttering "scorpio," as she went.

"She takes her astrology way too seriously," Aurora scoffed.

A laugh like a rusty hinge from across the room. Clio turned to discover that it was coming from Professor McGonagall, who was also shaking her head. Maybe Clio wasn't at the top of her shit list, after all.

Clio spent a good part of the afternoon in her bathroom with Professor Sprout, pruning and fertilizing the small vertical jungle growing there. The exuberant voices of Elphaba + Her Boyfriends crashed through the radio over rollicking waves of dueling pianos and guitars.

"Most of these plants are very hardy. As long as they get a little water and food every now and then they'll do just fine."

"You say that now, but you don't know yet how awesomely bad I am at keeping plants alive. I think just my presence in the room may be enough to wipe them out."

Pomona laughed at this, and continued detailing the steps Clio would need to carry out each month to insure the plants' health. At least she could get away with monthly care. She glanced down at her dirty jeans and then over to the cool, inviting tub.

"I should probably get cleaned up soon, and figure out what to wear."

Pomona chuckled, "Oh don't worry dear, she may not be the most overtly friendly person, but she doesn't dislike you. Certainly not just because of your attire. Look at me," she gestured to her own well-worn overalls, "I dress like this almost all of the time because I spend so much of it in the greenhouses." Clio nodded, not quite convinced.

"You won't be wearing muggle clothes to class, now will you?" she said.

"No, of course not."

"Well then, nothing to worry about. Let's take a look in your closet. We're pretty well finished in here." They cleaned up the stray dirt and plant trimmings with a few sweeps of their wands, and then returned to the bedroom to have a look in Clio's closet.

Clio showed her the two sets of formal robes she owned: the dark blue robes that she'd worn to her interview, and magenta dress robes she'd worn to a friend's wedding. She hadn't known where to wear them since, but thought they were too beautiful to only wear once. The low-cut bodice, sheer lace sleeves and body-skimming skirt made her think it was too sexy for school. Pomona clucked her tongue as she ran her finger over a lace sleeve.

"You should also wear those heels," she said, pointing to the one pair that Clio owned.

"Really, it's not too … much?"

Pomona nodded, "You and Charity will make quite a pair tonight."

Clio nodded, looking uncertainly at the dress robes while Professor Sprout patted Nox on the head and turned to go. "Wear your hair down," she added as she made her exit.

At a quarter to six, Clio began carefully making her way down the grand staircase in her heels. Her right hand held up her long skirt, so that it swished gracefully from side to side during her descent, instead of tangling around her shoes and tripping her. After what felt like an eternity she finally reached the ground floor. Charity was waiting for her near the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitories, dressed in ice blue robes that, Clio was relieved to see, were cut similarly to hers. She let out a low whistle.

"You clean up well!" Charity said. "Let's go sit down before the students swarm in."

Just then, Professor McGonagall burst out of her office, "Have the students arrived yet?" she asked, looking them both up and down. "I've received an owl from Professor Lupin, there was a dementor on the train."

"With the students?" Clio blurted out. The older woman's lips were pursed, and she nodded her head sharply.

"I need to go find Harry Potter, if he manages to sneak past me, then please send him to my office." The two younger witches nodded in unison.

"You look very nice this evening, Clio," she added, then turned and disappeared out the front doors. Even as she left, the students began arriving in their identical black robes.

"Too late, here they come," said Charity, hooking arms with Clio and steering her towards the hall.

"Feast's over here guys, not down there," she called over her shoulder to a pair of giggling Hufflepuffs who had changed course at the last second and headed down toward the Hufflepuff common room. "Slytherins, you'll have plenty of time to plot world domination, later," she said to another pair, shaking her head. "There's always a few couples who head toward their favorite make out spots instead of the feast." Clio snorted, then caught her breath as they entered the hall.

The four long house tables were filling quickly, and the buzz of numerous conversations filled the room. The normally dark ceiling was illuminated by thousands of twinkling candles. Clio uttered another low whistle.

"I know, it's all Flitwick's handiwork. Sick isn't it?" Charity murmured.

Clio nodded. They made their way up the length of the room to the staff table.

"Are those fireworks Weasley? Put them away!" Charity addressed this last order to burly twin redheads at the Gryffindor table who grinned broadly at the two witches, each stuffing a handful of fireworks back into the pockets of their robes.

"Helloooo Professor Burbage," said one.

"Have a good summer?" asked the other.

"Yes, thank you, now sit down before I take points away."

"It wouldn't be right if we didn't start out the year with a deficit, now would it?" the first one answered, still smiling.

"They're not related to Bill Weasley, are they?" Clio whispered to Charity.

"They're brothers. Do you know Bill?"

"Through a friend of a friend, in Egypt."

"He's a hottie. If I had spent the last two years in Egypt I would have been all over that."

"He's got no shortage of admirers," Clio said.

No sooner had they taken their seats when Hagrid arrived with the first years. They poured around him like black waves flowing around a hairy mountain island. Clio was struck by how young the boys looked, she would have guessed most were only 8 or 9 if she didn't know any better. Meanwhile, many of the girls wore makeup and a few could have passed for 16.

"I feel old," Clio muttered to Charity, who nodded.

"They get younger every year," she replied. "Hey there's Potter!" Charity pointed toward the front door. Clio just had time to catch a glimpse of tousled black hair and round spectacles reflecting the light from the floating candles before Professor McGonagall called him back out. He and another student, a girl with a lot of frizzy brown hair, turned and fought their way back against the tide of students and out into the hallway again.

"So that's the famous Harry Potter, huh?"

"Yep."

"Where's Harry?" asked Hagrid, scanning the room.

"He just left, McGonagall wanted a word with him."

The giant man sagged a bit, disappointed, "Can't wait to tell him I'm teachin' Care o' Magical Creatures."

The last of the first years were filing in along with a few older stragglers when he strode in as if he'd just found his way out of an apocalyptic wasteland; a rangy man who carried the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He was clad in a lived-in cloak, his light brown hair was streaked with silver, and his pale gray eyes practically glowed as they roved over the hall.

"Who's that?" Clio asked.

"That's Lupin," said Hagrid, "He's aged a bit, o' course, but I remember when he was a student here."

Clio watched Lupin stroll through the room to an empty seat farther down the table next to Professor Flitwick's empty seat. The tiny wizard was currently carrying a stool and ratty old hat out to face the students.

"It's the sorting hat!" squealed Charity, clapping her hands and grinning at Clio with devilish glee. Clio listened with detached interest to the sorting hat's song. The sorting process was so strange to her that she imagined she were an anthropologist observing the coming-of-age rituals of a foreign culture. Flitwick unfurled a long scroll, and Clio was waiting for him to begin reading names when he shocked her, instead.

"Before we begin sorting the first-year students, I'd like to call our new ancient runes professor forward." He turned toward Clio, who's eyes widened. "Professor Callimachus," he said, gesturing toward her with one tiny outstretched hand. Clio turned slowly toward Dumbledore, who smiled kindly at her from the center of the table, nodding for her to go forward.

She whipped around to Charity, who shooed her on. "You knew about this!" she hissed.

Flitwick continued to speak as she walked past Hagrid, who was grinning wide enough to split his face.

"As Professor Callimachus attended school in the United States, she has never been sorted into a Hogwarts house. She may not have attended Hogwarts as a student, but she is one of us, now. To welcome her to the school properly, she'll be sorted tonight."

Clio surveyed the students in the hall (they mostly seemed anxious for dinner) as she waited for further instructions.

"Go ahead and sit down, Professor, and place the hat on your head" Dumbledore spoke up from his seat at the table, "I assure you it won't bite." The entire student body laughed at this, and Clio's face flushed beneath her tan. She sat down and swept the hat over her head in one smooth motion, wishing for this ordeal to be over.

She waited, wondering if she would feel different; but nothing happened for what felt like a long time. The hat seemed to be debating itself. Clio felt certain that the hat was going to give up and declare that she couldn't be sorted.

"Hatstall," she heard a few people whisper, and wondered if it was because she was too old. Finally, after firing a number of bizarre questions at her:

_What is your favorite instrument?_

"Guitar."

_What kind of potion would you invent?_

" … Beer."

it called out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

A spontaneous cheer rose up from the Gryffindor table, along with a stray wolf-whistle that Clio identified as one or both of the Weasley twins'. A smile pulled at her mouth before she thought better of it and, in her best dead-pan, announced, "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley." This earned her a low rumble of laughs from all around the room as she stood up.

The twins looked at each other and said, "She knows our name!" in unison.

Feeding off the laughter, she placed the hat on the chair, performed a mock-serious bow, and walked back to her place at the table. A majority of the staff applauded politely, but she noticed that Snape's arms were crossed, and (more interestingly) he was glaring furiously down the length of the table at Lupin, who's tired face was graced by a small smile. His silvery eyes met hers for an instant, and Clio felt an unexpected heat wave roll up from her stomach to throat.

"I thought ya' might be a Gryffindor," Hagrid said, positively beaming.

Clio flushed, and pretended to be completely absorbed by the sorting of the students. The Slytherins made a hissing sound whenever a new Gryffindor was announced. They didn't do it for the other two houses.

"Why do they do that?" Clio asked Charity, nodding toward the Slytherin table.

She grimaced before answering. "The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor is … intense."

The sorting had finally ended, and Flitwick removed the chair and hat. Professor McGonagall was making her way, at last, up the hall to her seat. Clio noticed Potter and the bushy-haired girl making their way to the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore rose to speak, introducing Hagrid and Lupin.

Clio considered Charity's words, leaning forward slightly to look down the table toward where Snape sat in stony silence. His eyes bored furiously toward the middle of the table; it appeared to be Lupin's head that he was attempting to light on fire. One corner of her mouth quirked upward in a sly half-smile. Snape's eyes shifted abruptly to eye her coldly, then narrowed shrewdly before turning away. She thought she'd left silly house rivalries behind when she'd left Salem.

Finally, the feast began. Pork chops, lamb shanks, whole chickens, enormous hams: almost all the plates around her were laden with meat. Clio stuck to the potatoes, filling her plate with mashed, broiled, and fried. Everyone was eating now, except for Professor Binns, who moaned about how good everything looked while reminiscing about all the glorious feasts he'd experienced in the past. Really, she thought, why did he bother coming to meals?

By the end of the dessert, Clio had consumed so much chocolate cake and lemon tart that she felt she might burst.

"How do you not all weigh 500 pounds?" she moaned. Charity laughed.

"Don't worry, you'll burn it off on all the stairs. The food's also not this good every night." By now the feast was officially over, and teachers and students were milling about and talking. Potter and two friends, the bushy-haired girl and a tall red-haired boy who resembled a gawkier version of Bill, came up to congratulate Hagrid. Clio and Charity gave them their space until McGonagall came to shoo the trio away.

"Party in the staff room?" Charity asked Professor McGonagall as soon as the students were out of ear shot. McGonagall looked down her nose at her rather sternly.

"_Meeting_ in the staff room, yes."

"Yes, right 'meeting'," Charity said to Clio with a wink. "I'm bringing wine. Do you have the projector?"

"Yep," Clio answered, patting at an invisible pocket where the small box was concealed.

The staff room was already quite animated when they arrived a few minutes later. Lupin was recounting the story of the dementor on the train to a rapt audience – all except for Snape, Clio noticed. He sulked in a low armchair in the corner. McGonagall was outraged that the dementors had boarded the train, and demanded that Dumbledore file an official complaint with the Ministry. Lupin seemed most concerned with Harry Potter's reaction to it.

"It affected him more strongly than anyone. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Did it attack him?" Flitwick asked.

"No, it approached him but was just as close to several other students. It's normal for reactions to vary from person to person, but not for someone to faint just from their presence."

"Perhaps Potter is just weaker than most people care to admit," Snape sneered.

Several heads shook at the insult, and Lupin frowned. "I think it has to do with his history," he said sadly. The room fell quiet for a moment as everyone considered this, heads nodding. Thinking a change of subject was in order, Clio asked the question that had been flickering through her head periodically throughout the feast.

"What's a hatstall?"

Relieved at the change in subject, the staff became animated once again. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had both been hatstalls, it turned out. Either one could have ended up in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

"The sorting hat was on my head for over 5 minutes," said McGonagall proudly, then laughed her rusty laugh. Clio was surprised that her sorting had lasted just over two minutes; as it had felt like an eternity.

Professor McGonagall turned sharply toward Clio, "I hear you are a Griffyndor, now."

"I suppose I am," said Clio, squirming under her scrutiny. "Does it actually, count, though, or was this just for fun?"

"Of course it counts," she said. "You're a bit late getting here, but you've always been welcome."

"Oh," Clio considered this for a moment. "What do you mean, I've 'always been welcome'?"

McGonagall looked at her curiously, "You were born in Britain, so your name appeared on the Hogwarts list when you were born. I sent a letter to your house in America when you turned eleven."

"I got a letter from Hogwarts?" Clio tried to downplay her shock at this revelation.

"Why, yes, didn't you know?" Now Professor McGonagall looked shocked. "Your father wrote back that you'd be attending Salem, instead."

"Oh," Clio said. Her father had never mentioned a letter from Hogwarts. Her mother never talked about anything having to do with magic.

"Both you and your sister, Calliope, had the option of coming to Hogwarts," Now Professor McGonagall spoke in a slightly softer, almost sympathetic tone.

Clio stared at the floor, hands on hips. She didn't know whether to feel angry that she'd been denied a choice, or grateful for her education at Salem and happy that she'd get to work at Hogwarts. When she looked up again, there were several pairs of eyes on her, most looking concerned, like Charity's. Snape's were as inscrutable as ever.

She shrugged and downed the glass of wine that she was holding in one swig. She asked for a refill, and her glass was filled instantly by some anonymous benefactor.

"So, where's the squid?" Pomona demanded with a clap of her hands. Glad for the distraction, Clio pulled the box, two and a half inches square with a hinged lid just large enough to admit the film roll, from her robes. She tapped it with her wand, and beams of light shot out from tiny holes on four sides. The box hung in mid-air, and the beams of light broadened until they enveloped it in a shining globe. She pointed her wand at in and it began to spin, the light globe growing until it filled the center of the room.

Now everyone could see the giant squid hovering in the lake, tentacles waving, skin color shifting and eyes blinking. Her camera had caught it from all angles, providing a three-dimensional view. A tiny Pomona Sprout appeared, dwarfed by the squid, and waved to everyone in turn. There were a few appreciative "oohs" that morphed into a mixture of gasps and guffaws when the final shot of the mermen appeared.

"Oops, forgot that was there," Clio said, hurriedly extinguishing the light.

"Oh, that's just another way they have of saying 'hello'," said Dumbledore, right before firing up the phonograph.

Clio found her wine glass filled for a third time. The music grew louder and the lights brighter as the wine made its way through her blood. She lost track of the hour, the glasses she emptied, the jumbled thoughts whirling in her head; everything but the beat of the music.

Clio found herself half participating in a conversation with Charity, Aurora, Flitwick, Lupin and Hagrid; and half humming along to the music. Now and then she caught a glimpse of Snape glowering, not moving from Dumbledore's side. By the time it occurred to her that, if there was ever a safe time to taunt him for keeping the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry alive, this was it, he was gone. Filch and Pince also disappeared before the party finally broke up.

At some point she, Charity and Hagrid burst spontaneously into song, Clio's Midwestern contralto harmonizing in an oddly appealing way with his booming West Country bass and her lilting soprano. They finished the night with a bawdy ballad about a wizard with nine wands and just as many lovers that gradually devolved into an argument about the order of the verses.

"I swear it's the birch wand that goes with Molly the farmer's daughter, and then the ash wand that goes with Janet the fairy princess," Charity insisted.

"No, no the fairy princess goes with oak and she comes first," Hagrid argued back, redfaced.

"All right, then. I think that's enough for tonight." McGonagall said, bringing the party to an end.

Clio clung dizzily to Hagrid's arm as they walked outside to call their dogs. Nox had been permitted to spend the evening snuffling through the school grounds with Fang, rather than staying cooped up in her room in the castle. They both laughed as the dogs came charging up the lawn to them, covered in mud. Clio charmed it off of Nox before allowing her to come in to the castle, but when she offered to clean Fang, as well, Hagrid waved her off.

"Naw, it's okay if he stays dirty. He'll shake it off once he dries."


	4. Classroom Disasters

Clio woke with a headache the next morning, despite the quart of water she'd chugged before crashing onto her spinning bed. She'd been too warm for the covers when she went to sleep, and now she found herself shivering.

"Mmph?" she asked no one in particular. Nox perked up her ears at the sound of her voice, then rolled over. A warm bath helped to clear the fog from her brain, but the headache remained on the periphery, daring her to make any sudden movement. She dressed in the first set of tunic and pants that she spied in her wardrobe, thankful that she'd color coordinated everything ahead of time. Over this she threw a burgundy outer robe.

She would have to hurry if she was going to take Nox outside and back before the students descended on the hall for breakfast. Her head began to pound, apparently from walking upright, and Nox took forever to choose an appropriate bush to pee on. Clio's patience was worn thin by the time the dog had finished her business. She pretended she didn't see Snape walking up from the dungeon as she herded the dog towards the main stairs. She didn't have the time or self confidence to deal with him at the moment. He didn't acknowledge the slight, but his eyes took in her athletic form as she ran up the stairs two at a time, robe flapping behind her.

Ten minutes later, her head throbbing, she hunched over a plate of dry toast and clutched an empty mug.

"Need coffee," she mumbled, a full octave below her regular speaking voice. After a brief pause, the mug filled with a foul brown liquid. She took a whiff and shuddered at the stale, burnt smell. "No. Do not want." She stared crossly at the drink, willing it to change into the fresh Turkish brew she was accustomed to, to no avail.

"You'll probably need to supply your own beans if you want fresh coffee," said Charity.

Her shoulders slumping, Clio gave in and began sipping at the coffee. She managed to down two pieces of toast with it by the time breakfast was over. The churning in her guts wasn't just from the revelries of the night before, but also included a hefty dose of anxiety for her first day with the students. Luckily, she didn't have class until second period, so she would at least have some time after breakfast to skim through her notes, gather her scattered brain cells and (hopefully) recover from the alcohol-fueled portion of her stomach upset.

She let the flood of students cascade out of the hall and on to their morning classes before picking herself up and slumping off to the staff room. She was halfway there before she realized that she'd left her messenger bag with all her notes behind at the table, and had just turned to go back when Lupin came loping up with it, the effects of his silvery eyes and shy smile immediately trumping the state of his tatty brown robes.

"You left this," he said, "but you've obviously realized that by now."

"Thanks, yeah, sorry for the trouble." Clio smiled back at him, thankful that her voice had returned to it's normal range, so that she no longer sounded like a fog horn.

"No trouble," he said, then dashed off toward the stairs.

Except for Binns, hovering by the windows, the staff room was blessedly empty. Clio settled into a squashy armchair, took out her notes and started reviewing her lecture for the day. Her afternoon class was going to be a small group of 6th years beginning study for their NEWTs, and since they'd all passed their OWLs with E or O she knew where they were starting from. The 3rd years she'd be teaching would also be relatively straight forward, since (unless they were nerds like her who'd studied runes at home) they would all be completely new to the subject. It was the 4th and 5th years that she was the most anxious about. She would be starting out with 4th years this morning, and as she pored over her lesson plans she only became more anxious, not less. Could this lesson be too easy, or too advanced?

Binns had begun talking to her almost as soon as she entered the room. At first she paid him no attention, absentmindedly saying "mmm-hmm" or "I see" every time she sensed that he was waiting for some kind of response from her before continuing. Apparently, at some point he became interested in what she was doing, because she suddenly realized that he was hovering over her shoulder, staring down at the papers on her lap. She felt a chill on her arm, and made an effort not to flinch away.

"There isn't much lecture to your lecture," he was saying now. "What are all these questions for?"

"Hmm? Oh, those are discussion questions."

"Discussion? You don't discuss things with your students, you tell them what you want them to know and they write it down."

"Oh, is that how you teach history?"

"Of course. That's how everything should be taught."

"I see," she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. There was a soft click at the door, and when Clio looked up she saw Professor Trelawney slink into the room, making a beeline for the wardrobe.

"Ahh, Sybill, I was just discussing with young Professor Callimachus here the proper way to lead a class. Perhaps you have some tips for her?"

"Oh, yes, I foresee a disaster in your classroom today," she said wispily, retrieving a filmy shawl and wrapping it around herself dramatically before flouncing out.

Clio sighed heavily, gathering up her notes. She might as well get comfortable in her classroom. At least there she wouldn't be disturbed.

The room was empty and quiet for the time being, and just as she had left it. Except, her nose wrinkled. Did she smell fresh paint? The windows were closed. The windows had been painted again.

"Son of a bitch!" She ran to the first window and attempted to raise it. It was painted shut. "Fuck! Who did this?"

Deranged cackling caught her attention from the other side of the room. She turned in time to see Peeves shoot across the classroom to the door, holding a paint can and brush. A dotted line of paint dripped behind him.

"Fuck you, Peeves!" she screamed. The poltergeist continued his cackling, then shot straight through the door. The paint can crashed against it and then splattered on the floor. She opened the door just to hurl a few more choice four-letter words at him, then spent the next half hour charming the paint off of the floor and reopening the windows. Fortunately, the paint was fresh, making raising the windows less of a hassle than the first time.

The one good thing about the "disaster" was that it helped to burn off the last of the queasiness in her belly. She took one last cursory glance at her notes before stowing them inside the podium. She retrieved her projector from a pocket in her tunic and, as she heard voices echoing down the hall, prepared it for a bit of show and tell. Her headache was also finally beginning to subside, and by the time the 4th years began filing in she had begun to feel somewhat human.

Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were paired together for this first lesson, and she'd decided to tailor the lesson to their house strengths. Most of them were too wrapped up in comparing their summers to pay her any attention as they entered and found their seats. That, is, until they looked up and noticed the scene spread out in the air for them. Clio had used a series of photographs to recreate her favorite room at the Runic Archives. She had their full attention when she began to speak.

"I'm Professor Callimachus. If that's too many syllables for you, then you can call me Professor Calli. I've lived in four different countries over the past 23 years so, yes, I have a funny accent." There were a few chuckles. She ran through the attendance list, checking everyone off in her brand new ledger book and silently repeating a memory charm to herself, then set it aside.

"Can anyone tell me where we are right now, aside from 'the ancient runes classroom'?" A few hands shot up before she'd reached the last part of her question. The hands all lowered, with more chuckles, when she got to the end.

"It's okay, you can guess. Look for clues and shout out your suggestions. Work together." The students all looked at each other uncertainly for a moment, clearly unused to this type of group activity. She waited patiently and, little by little, they started to open up and volunteer ideas.

"It looks like a museum."

"It's full of stones. They're all covered in runes."

"Look, there's a window there, and outside it's snowy."

"The sky outside the window is dark, but the clock on the wall says it's the middle of the day."

Within just a few minutes they had come to the correct answer. Clio rewarded them by taking them on a tour of her favorite pieces within the archives. The students listened with rapt attention as she told the histories of each stone, and the spells inscribed on them. Then she recalled the projector to her pocket, and they were once more in the classroom.

"Now that I've done my little show and tell, why don't you tell me about what you've learned in this class so far." Each and every one of their answers included the word "reading." It was just as Clio had expected: they'd been learning to read and write runes, but that was it.

"Decoding runes and rune-marked artifacts takes exactly the same skills as you used a few minutes ago to figure out where we were. It's not just 'reading,' although reading is an important part of it. It's solving puzzles. Once you learn to decode runes, you can learn to work magic with them, too. The stones I showed you all carry powerful and ancient magic."

A hand shot up from the crowd. "Yes, Mr. Belby."

"What kind of magic can you do with runes?"

She smiled, "Protective spells, especially with talismans and amulets. Some witches and wizards use runes to forecast the future, but I've always found that a bit iffy. Still, some swear by it. I made this projector," she said, retrieving the box from her pocket and holding it up for everyone to see. "There are runes inscribed all along the edges," she passed her wand over the box and the runes glowed bright gold. She passed her wand over the box again and the runes faded.

"You made that?" someone asked.

"Don't sound so skeptical," she answered, getting another laugh. "I made it while I was studying for my NEWTS." A couple of them sighed, apparently already anticipating making their own.

"If any of you are particularly interested in how the projector works, then you should consider joining the photography club. The first meeting won't be until next week, but the lab will be open for a few hours this week for anyone who's interested in doing some developing. This year you'll learn some basic talismans. And have you made a rune set?"

They shook their heads no. "That'll be the first thing we make, then."

She glanced at her watch, "We've got a few items of 'housecleaning' to go over now," the students all looked confused, and then snickered when they realized she meant to go over the grading rubric and her expectations for them. "Yeah, I know I will use some terms that will sound funny to you, so if you don't get anything than just ask," she said.

At the end of class, she announced that they would have homework. There were a few groans but no eye rolls, at least. "I want you to bring me an object from the castle that is inscribed with runes. If it's too big to bring to class then you can take a picture of it, or make a charcoal rubbing of it. It can't simply be a page from a book of runes, though, and it has to be unique. I don't want to see 5 people all bringing in a rubbing of the same column. Don't try to fool me, either, because I will not be fooled. Believe me, I have my ways," she smiled as she said this. "Bring your object, and be ready to present to the class where you got it, what it does, and what the symbols mean."

With that, her first class was dismissed. Once they had all filed out, she heaved a great sigh. That hadn't been half bad. She was careful to lock the door behind her when she left for lunch.

She was especially hungry at lunch after hardly eating anything at breakfast, but also so excited to talk with Charity and Hagrid over their respective first halves of the first day that she barely remembered to eat. She and Charity both laughed over Professor Trelawney's dire prediction. Hagrid's first lesson with the hippogriffs had gone fairly well, but he was anxious over the afternoon lesson with the Gryffindor and Slytherin third years. It was becoming clear to Clio that the Gryffindor trio of Potter, Weasley and Granger were his favorite students at the school, and he wanted desperately for them to like his class.

"It's your class, Hagrid." Charity kept saying. "You're in charge. You're not there to be their friend when class is in session."

"I know, I know," Hagrid answered. Clio doubted that her words were sinking in. Clio told Charity about how she'd had the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws collaborate together. "What about when I have the Slytherins and Gryffindors together? Do you think I should play more to their competitive sides, or should I try and get them to collaborate, too?"

Charity stared into space, contemplatively, for a few moments before responding. "It's your class, Clio, you're in charge."

Smiling, Clio took a mock swing at her head. "Yeah, yeah." The crowd in the great hall was beginning to thin by this time. Clio and the other teachers with afternoon classes began to filter out behind the students. Lupin passed her by on his way to his office.

"I heard Peeves made a nuisance of himself in your classroom this morning," he said, "He's been singing about it up and down the second floor corridors."

"About how he painted my windows shut?"

"I never knew those windows could open. They were always shut when I was a student myself. Smelled like dungbombs in there," he said lightly.

"Yeah, it smelled like dungbombs until I forced the windows open a few days ago. That reminds me, I need to lay some security runes on the door."

"Good luck," he said, smiling bashfully as he turned down the corridor to his office.

Clio's afternoon class met her in the hall outside her classroom that day, where she was burning shield runes into the door. The tip of her wand glowed white hot, scorching a complex protective pattern into the wood. Her 6th-years watched, wide-eyed, as the runes smoked for a few seconds, then faded away. Clio chanted as she worked, not acknowledging her students until she was done. When at last she turned and welcomed them, they stared at her in awe. No teacher had ever vandalized school property like that, to their recollection.

"Welcome to the study of ancient runes," she said with a smile. "The runes I've just marked on the door are designed to keep out poltergeists and other restless spirits." She had their complete attention from the get-go.

Clio spent a couple of hours in the photo lab before dinner. Even though she'd posted open lab hours, she had expected to spend the time alone. Apparently word had spread, because there were already a couple of students waiting for her when she arrived. More streamed in later, all wanting to see how the projector worked and learn how to mix the developing potions. She turned on her music box for them, and they ended up listening to the Weird Sisters as they worked. There was no sign of her sullen neighbor when she left for dinner.

After starting off so low, it was with remarkably high spirits that Clio strutted into the great hall that night, eager to exchange first-day stories with Hagrid. Then she saw him, shoulders slumped, sagging onto the table, face buried in his hands. Charity stood dwarfed beside him, a hand on his shoulder, golden hair falling over his shaggy head as she attempted to console him.

"What's happened?" Clio whispered.

Charity sighed, shaking her head.

Hagrid looked up then, eyes red and so swollen that she could barely see his pupils. "It was a disaster," he said. "Dumbledore'll sack me for sure."

"It couldn't have been that bad!" Clio said.

"He didn't even fire Gilderoy Lockhart on the first day," Charity muttered.

"It was. Buckbeak injured a student."

"Buckbeak? He was the gentle one!" Clio gasped. "How did it happen?"

"It was Draco Malfoy, he came up too quick, without bowin'. Buckbeak was just frightened and charged him."

"Malfoy! The little prick," Charity seethed.

"Which one is Malfoy?" Clio asked, scanning the hall.

"He's still in the hospital wing," Hagrid said miserably.

"He's a third-year Slytherin. Pale and blonde and pure-blood," Charity hissed. "His dad is on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and he's tried to ban several books from the library for being pro-Muggle. You can't miss him, he's like Snape's little pet."

Clio recoiled in disgust. "You told him to bow, right?"

"Course I did! Didn' matter though."

"Dumbledore's not going to fire you if he didn't follow your directions. It's his fault!" Clio was fuming now.

"Hey, this should cheer you up, Hagrid," Charity said, pulling a song book from her robes. "You were right, it's the oak wand that goes with the fairy princess and she _did_ come first."

Hagrid wasn't fired. He did, however, lose all the joy that he'd experienced at teaching. After the lesson with the hippogriffs, he abandoned his lesson plans on other interesting creatures like the thestrals. Instead, he focused exclusively on flobberworms, arguably the safest and most boring creatures at the school. Any other animal Clio suggested was shot down for one reason or another. Owls might bite, some students may be allergic to kneazles and unicorns were too shy to coax out of the forest.

Clio's classes continued to go well and her confidence grew throughout the week. Peeves was stymied by the runes on her door, but would sometimes float just outside to blow raspberries and scream "Potty mouth! Potty mouth!" at her as she entered or exited. The students who showed up for the photography club began bringing in their own music to share. Snape showed up occasionally after the students had left, just to critique her musical tastes. Ironically, she found his visits more amusing than unpleasant. They distracted her from thinking about her family, something she often did whenever she found herself alone. She'd sent a terse note about the Hogwarts letters to her sister, and waited anxiously for her reply.

She was glad that she'd arrived at the school with a little time before the beginning of term to get acquainted with the myriad corridors, shifting staircases, and hidden shortcuts throughout the castle. Before the first week of classes was up, she was running back and forth, up and down the stairs between her office, classroom, photo lab, staffroom and great hall as if she'd been doing it for years. She even attempted to assist lost students in finding their classes, although the shifting staircases made giving directions somewhat difficult. After accidentally directing a few students in a great circle, she gave up and began telling anyone who asked that they'd have to work it out for themselves.

Nox quickly became popular with the students who encountered her during her walks, even though she had a tendency to chase after cats, rats and other pets. One day the dog came prancing up to Clio with a large yellowish toad in her mouth. Clio had to pry her mouth open to get the poor creature away from her, and was about to set it free outside when she heard a plaintive voice moving towards her along the corridor.

"Trevor?"

She looked up and around, and spotted a chubby, round-faced boy with dirty blond hair walking the corridor with bent waist, searching for something on the floor. Nox, meanwhile, wagged her tail and eyed the toad like it was a chew toy.

She glanced down at the slobbery toad squatting on her palm, "Is this Trevor?" she asked, stepping toward him and holding out the toad.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling. She handed him the toad, a long string of dog drool stretching out from his back legs to her hand as she did.

"Please don't call me ma'am," she said, wiping her hands off on her pants. "Ma'am is to be reserved for old ladies, only."

His eyes widened, "Yes, professor." She smiled and walked off, not realizing that she had just scared him.

It wasn't until the middle of that first week that, looking for texts for her students to begin translating, Clio found a need to borrow a few books from the library. She'd only walked through it briefly before, admiring the tall gothic windows and rows upon rows of handsome oak bookcases. It turned out that the books of ancient rune poems she wanted were all in the restricted section, behind a velvet rope. She was about to ask Madam Pince why they were kept there, but one stern glare over the top of the librarian's cat's eye reading glasses changed her mind.

Remembering Charity's advice about check out, she bypassed the librarian's desk and casually made her way through the stacks, feigning interest in _Hogwarts: A History _and getting caught up in a historical atlas for real before stepping nonchalantly over the rope that separated the restricted books from the main collection. The runes stamped on their leather-bound spines made them easy to find, even with all the dust coating the shelf. She flipped through the first one, which looked like it hadn't been cracked open in years. A bit of parchment dropped into her hand. The due date was scribbled on it in tight, spidery scrawl.

"May 8, 1976."

She wondered whether anyone had even looked at it since then. Glancing to her left and right to make sure no one was watching, she waved her wand over the book to determine what hexes had been placed on it. She counted at least 14. Shaking her head, she began methodically reciting the counterhexes, first loosening them and then lifting them away with her wand like wisps of colored smoke. She finished the first book, and with another furtive glance, slid it into her messenger bag. The second book was just as heavily guarded, as was the third. Emboldened that lightning had not struck her down after nicking the first book, she grew careless and ceased her vigilant checking for snooping busybodies. She was lifting the eighth hex from the final book when she heard a noise like someone clearing their throat. Startled by the sound, she hastily brushed the violet-colored smoke away, pretending to be merely dusting the cover. Then she turned to face whoever was coming, affixing an innocent expression to her face.

It was Lupin, looking better fed and less haunted than she remembered. He smiled conspiratorially at her before reaching up to one of the higher shelves to retrieve a book. He seemed to know exactly where the one he wanted would be without searching for it, as if he'd retrieved it many times before.

"Don't mind me, I won't tell Madam Pince," he whispered, paging through the book in his hands.

"Tell her what?" Clio asked, a sly smile of her own making an appearance. He laughed softly.  
>"You are allowed to check it out, you know," he continued.<p>

"I may want to keep it longer than is allowed," she answered.

"Well, then, I doubt anyone will miss it," he replied.

"You think?" she asked, blowing a cloud of dust from the top edge, then continuing with her counterhexes. "How many do you think need to be missing from one spot before she notices?" she asked.

"Hmm," he said, as if mulling over how best to answer. He walked closer, taking a look at the gap on the shelf that her three books had occupied. "Well, some people have found it useful to take books from another section and fill in the holes. Like this," he said, pulling a couple of books from his robes and sliding them onto the shelf with the books on runes. He pushed them into the shadows of the surrounding books, obscuring the titles and concealing the fact that they didn't belong.

She grinned. "That's a useful trick. One you've obviously never used yourself, I presume."

"Oh no, I've only heard of other people doing it," he said lightly.

She finished counterhexing the book and slipped it into her bag. "There are so many hexes on these books, it's almost as if she doesn't want anybody reading them," she muttered.

"She probably considers this one to be too scary," he said, turning the book in his hands to show her a full color illustration of a redcap bludgeoning an unwary victim.

Clio's mouth pulled into it's half-smile, "I think my 10-year old nephew would like that, actually."

"Good, I'm planning to cover them with the first through fourth years."

"Fourth years haven't covered them yet?"

"Unfortunately, no. Their instruction over the past few years has been a bit … spotty to say the least."

"Oh, yeah, Charity mentioned that. 'The curse,' Quirrell and Lockhart and all," she said. "It doesn't bother you?"

"What, the curse?" he shook his head, looking down at the book in his hands. "I'm not superstitious."

She nodded, then chuckled. "Lockhart. I started reading one of his books once, because a friend wouldn't shut up about it. After two chapters I threw it against the wall."

"Shhhhhhhhh," hissed Madam Pince, standing at the end of the row with her hands planted on her hips. Clio gripped her bag self-consciously, hiding it under her arm as surreptitiously as she could.

"This is a library," Pince rasped, clearly outraged that Clio had broken the unwritten decibel limit. "Remus Lupin, I expect better of you." She said nothing more to Clio, simply looking her up and down with a critical eye before stalking off.

Clio turned to him with radiant eyes, stifling laughter. "Sorry if I've got you in trouble."

"It wouldn't be the first time someone else has got me in trouble," he murmured, smiling wistfully as he returned his book back to the same spot he'd gotten it from. "I'll just have to come back for that later."

Clio made a mental note of the book's exact location, thinking that she might come back later and steal it for him herself. She strode past the librarian's desk, hands in her pockets, trying to look as innocent as possible while waiting for alarm bells to go off. Lupin fell in step behind her, nodding at Madam Pince as he passed. She glared at both of them until they were clear of the door. Clio slowly expelled the lungful of air she'd been holding for the past 30 seconds, waiting for him to catch up before continuing down the hallway.

"All that for a couple of library books," she said.

"Madam Pince takes her books very seriously."

"I thought librarians were supposed to be helpful. Hey, she was here when you were a student, right?"

"That's right."

"And Filch, too?"

"Oh, I see where you're going with this."

"Is it true?"

"No one knows for sure, other than them, I suppose." Without really thinking about it, they'd walked to the main stairs. Clio glanced at her watch. There wasn't much point in stopping in her room before dinner.

"Are you heading down?" he asked, as if on cue.

"Yeah, I may as well," she said, beginning her descent at a more measured trot than usual.

He kept pace with her easily, longer legs taking longer, slower strides.

"So, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?"

"Hmm, I don't know how useful you'd find any of them. I do know that if Peeves is causing mischief, you can usually get rid of him by threatening to fetch the Bloody Baron."

"The Slytherin house ghost?" Clio frowned, she vaguely recalled seeing him float around the hall during the start of term feast.

"He usually hangs around the dungeons. I'm sure you'll run in to him sooner or later down there."

"So far I've just run into Snape. I would advise against playing loud music in the photo lab early in the morning."

"Did you know that Snape and I were in the same year?"

"No! Did you know one another?" She chuckled, "Were you friends?"

He grimaced. "No, I can't say that we were."

"I didn't think so. What's up with that?"

He eyed her curiously for a second, "I'm afraid it's an almost entirely one-sided antipathy. So, how are your classes going so far?"

Her eyes narrowed, "I see what you did there. Umm, so far they're going very well. And how about yours?"

He smiled warmly, gray eyes lighting up. "They're going well. I've gotten Dumbledore's approval to bring in some monsters."

"Oooh, like what?"

"Red caps, hinkypunks," he watched her reactions as he listed them, "grindylows, kappas and I'd like to find a boggart. I'm sure there's one lurking about the castle somewhere."

"Did you say you're looking for a grindylow?"

"Yes," he answered cautiously.

"I bet I could get one for you from the lake."

"Really?" He looked at her, taken aback at this unexpected offer. "That's right, you're a diver."

"Yes, and I will use any excuse to get into the water."

"Have you caught one before?" He asked, looking slightly dubious.

"Well, not exactly, but I do know where they like to hang out." She recalled the thick masses of lake weeds growing in the area where the grindylows liked to congregate. "It shouldn't be too difficult to sneak up on one."

He measured her up for a moment. "I'll think about it."

They'd reached the staff table by now. Clio turned toward her usual seat by Charity and Hagrid. Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick was waving for Lupin near the middle of the table.

"I'll see you later," he said.

"Yeah," she said, smiling subtly as she sat down.

Clio snuck away from breakfast early a couple of days later and returned to the library. She pocketed the copy of _Gilderoy Lockhart's_ _Guide to Household Pests_ that she found in the small out-of-the-way shelf devoted to his works on her way back to the restricted section. She hoped that she wasn't too late, and smiled when she found _The International Catalog of Dark Creatures_ right where he'd left it.

To avoid suspicion after making the switch, she grabbed another book at random from one of the tables and walked up to the desk with it to check out. Madam Pince glanced at the title and then up at her, one eyebrow quirking upward and lips pinching together more tightly than Clio thought was humanly possible as she handed it back. She waited until she was out in the hallway before looking at the cover herself and groaning:_Love Spells: Time Tested Methods for Charming the Heart of Mr. Right_. She shoved the book down into the deepest recesses of her bag.


	5. The Burning Man

Clio had already decided that it would be more fun to leave Lupin's book where he'd find it rather than just handing it to him. She hoped that she'd left herself enough time to slip it into his classroom before he arrived. She knocked first, and when no one answered, eased open the door and found the room empty. She slipped inside and drew the book from her bag, double-checking that it was the right one, and left it on the podium at the front of the room. She slipped out just as quietly, feeling clever as she strode down the hall to the staffroom.

Clio had intended to do some reading before class, but was distracted by a very hairy and unique-looking spider spinning a web in the corner of one of the windows, and ended up using the last of her free moments taking pictures of it. She must have set her camera down at some point, because when she wanted to take a picture of Charity posing with the ridiculous _Love Spells _book at lunch, she discovered that it wasn't in her bag.

She made a detour through the staffroom just after lunch to look for it. As she passed by the wardrobe where Professor Trelwaney kept her extra shawls, she thought she saw it tremble, and stopped cold. Someone collided with her back with a grunt of irritation. She looked over her shoulder and saw Snape sliding around her, scowling.

"Did you see that?" she asked.

"See what?" he groused.

"I think there's something in the wardrobe."

His eyes darted over it hastily, "I don't see anything," he sneered.

"There! It just moved again."

Now he watched it, too, brow furrowed, lip curled.

"You must be imagin-" he was saying, when it jiggled a third time. One of the hangers inside fell down with a clank.

"What do you think it is?" Clio asked.

"You could always open the door and find out," he said silkily, eyes gleaming. The wardrobe shifted again.

"_You_ could open the door," she said.

"I don't care to know that badly," he said, crossing the room and sitting down in his favorite low arm chair. "You could leave it be and let Lupin deal with it, it is supposed to be his 'area of expertise.'" The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on Clio, who hesitated in front of the wardrobe. He drew the _Prophet_ from his robes and unfolded it noisily, eyes darting from the paper to her to the wobbling wardrobe, sneering still.

Two things happened at once. Clio drew her wand, squared her shoulders and opened the door to the wardrobe, and Lupin walked in the door of the staffroom. The figure that emerged from between the dark folds of fabric hanging within the wardrobe puzzled the two men, but Clio was terrified.

He was a paunchy, balding middle-aged man with a sour, reddened face. He was dressed in a sweat-stained t-shirt, flip-flops and cut-off jeans. He advanced toward her, a dreamy expression in his heavily lidded eyes. Clio backed away, wand hand faltering. The man's eyes suddenly widened and a high-pitched scream escaped his lips as his clothing burst into bright gold flames. He staggered, but continued to lurch forward as the flames licked over his flailing arms and legs, consuming his face. One hand stretched out before him, clutching at Clio's robe, but she backed away just out of his reach, feeling disgust now more than fear.

She watched him burn, mouth convulsing, tears springing to her eyes. The wizards watched the scene develop like a train wreck. Snape had set aside his paper and drawn his wand, but remained seated. His eyes darted between Clio, the monster and Lupin, who stood just inside the door.

Clio still hadn't lifted her wand when Lupin found his voice, "Clio, it's a boggart," he said firmly but gently.

She nodded. "I gathered that."

"Can you take care of it, or do you want me to?" Lupin pressed, stepping forward.

She shook her head, raising her wand, then hesitated and lowered it, "I don't know how to riddikulus that," she said.

"It's okay," he said, pressing her shoulder gently to move her out of the way. She stepped aside, and as he took her place the boggart shrank and transformed into the full moon.

"Riddikulus," he muttered, and the moon shrank further, into the form of a cockroach. It skittered across the floor back to the wardrobe and disappeared inside. He slammed the door behind it. Clio stood numbly beside him, wand hand hanging limply at her side while she wiped her eyes with the opposite sleeve.

"Are you all right?" He asked gently.

She nodded mutely, mortified by what both of them had witnessed. Wanting to comfort her, Lupin raised a tentative hand to her shoulder, where it wavered for a second before dropping again.

"Someone you know?" Snape asked coldly.

She glared at him, eyes suddenly blazing, considering how exactly to answer before saying, "You could say that."

He dipped his head slightly, looking toward the floor. It struck Clio as slightly odd that he would avoid her eyes now, given his tendency toward penetrating glares.

"Sorry, I'm not usually so useless," she said to Lupin, returning her wand to her belt. Seeing that she'd recovered her usual composure, he turned away to check that the door to the wardrobe was secure.

"Boggarts can be a challenge when you aren't expecting them," he said, raising an eyebrow and turning a hard eye on Snape, who glared back at him.

"Are you going to leave it in there?" she asked.

"Just long enough to share with my next class," Lupin answered, and she nodded. "Speaking of which, they're probably wondering where I'm at, right now."

"Shit," she muttered, looking at the clock. "I'm late as well." She turned and fled the room, Lupin not far behind. He loped for a ways in order to catch up with her.

"I can't even remember why I stopped in there in the first place," she said as they strode along the hall to the stairs.

"I was just checking to make sure that the boggart hadn't moved out. It's been there since yesterday, something Snape knew."

"Bastard," Clio muttered.

"The note Dumbledore posted on the door was obviously removed at some point. Sorry if it gave you a fright," he continued, lengthening his strides to keep up with her.

"I'm fine," she grumbled, continuing up the stairs to the second floor, while he turned down the corridor to his classroom. She paused outside her own classroom for a few moments, so that her heart had time to return to its normal rate before she entered. Her students were already seated and talking amongst themselves when she arrived.

He was certainly pale and blonde, but Clio recognized Draco Malfoy among her third-years by the sling on his arm. He drawled with an air of superiority that immediately got on her nerves, but this was tempered very slightly by the inferiority complex that he also projected. She consternated the Gryffindors and Slytherins by forcing them to work together in mixed groups. Anyone who complained immediately lost 5 points for their house. Malfoy lost 30 points for Slytherin within the first ten minutes; five for griping about being put in a group with Hermione Granger, and another 25 for referring to her as a "mudblood." From the dark look that crossed the girl's face, Clio guessed that this was not the first time she'd heard that derogatory term. She was astonished that someone would use it in her classroom; not even the Jolly Rogers (a house full of Death Eater wannabes at Salem) would have been so bold.

"Professor Snape will hear about this," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

"Go right ahead and tell him," Clio snapped. "If he encourages that kind of language within his house then I'll be having a conversation with him, myself." This drew a mixture of titters and gasps from the class, and a grin from Granger that exposed her buck teeth. No more complaints were made.

When she displayed the runic archives and asked the group members to decide amongst themselves where they were at, Granger's hand immediately shot up.

"Yes, Miss Granger do you have a question?"

"No, I have the answer."

She'd heard that Granger was clever, but Clio was taken aback by her sheer confidence.

"You're supposed to be discussing the answer with your group, Miss Granger." She watched the girl's smile fade with a straight face. She knew that working with Malfoy was the last thing the girl wanted to do, and despite her own irritation with the boy, she was determined for the class to follow her instructions.

"Why not just let her say the answer?" someone asked.

"Miss Granger is not the only student in this classroom," Clio said. "I want to hear everyone's ideas. Let me remind you all that a portion of your grade will be based on participation during class." This got everyone talking, and though the discussion began shakily (and Malfoy spent much of it sulking silently) it ended well. Granger's answer, as well as the reasoning behind it, turned out to be solid. Clio gave Gryffindor five points for her answers, and another five points apiece to the three other members of her group, so that Gryffindor ended up ten ahead and Slytherin only twenty behind.

Later, as she ran through the basic rune set she liked to start with, Malfoy drew her ire once again by raising his hand and inquiring when the were going to start learning "real" runes, like the sunwheel and thunderbolt.

"Neither of those are actual runes, Mr. Malfoy, although the thunderbolt is a bowdlerization of the eihwaz rune," she said, drawing it in the air in fire. There were a few scattered laughs at his expense, and Clio noticed his ears going red.

"My father said-"

"Is your father also a runemaster?" she asked, fighting to keep the snippiness out of her voice. He fell silent, mouth tightening into a paper-thin line. "There are examples of rune-based and rune-like symbols throughout our culture, and various muggle cultures as well," she said. "None of them are magical, however, and none of them have ever served as a true system of writing. One of the first things I want you to learn is how to recognize true runes." With that she launched into the explanation of her first homework assignment for them.

It was her most trying class yet, but she made it through.

"I need a drink," she said to Charity when she walked into her friend's office afterwards.

"I can help you, there," Charity replied, tossing her long blonde locks. "Want to hit the Three Broomsticks?"

"Now?

"Now."

"What about dinner?"

"We'll eat there."

"Okay, I just need to let Nox out, and should I change?"

Charity's eyes flicked over her clothes, "Put on something less … just less. Uncover yourself a bit."

Flipping through her wardrobe a few minutes later, Clio realized that she didn't have much in the way of "going out" clothes that were appropriate for cool weather. She finally settled on a low cut black tank and her one pair of non-faded jeans. She switched from her everyday boots to a pair with heels and traded her loose robe for a scarlet dragon scale jacket. Just before going down to meet Charity, she thought to leave her camera on her desk so that she'd remember to finish and develop her latest film roll the next day. That's when she remembered why she'd gone to the staffroom earlier. She went to Charity's office first, figuring that by now she must be getting impatient with her. Instead she found her sitting at her vanity, fixing her hair and makeup in a large mirror on the wall.

"Ready?" Charity asked, inspecting her eyeliner.

"Sure, I just need to find my camera; I think I left it in the staffroom. Did you know there's a boggart in the wardrobe?"

"Yeah, there was a note," Charity replied, smoothing on lipstick.

"Not when I went in there after lunch today."

"I bet Peeves took it. Did you let it out?"

"No. Sort of. Remus put it back." She scowled then, remembering her encounter with the boggart.

Charity smacked her lips. "What's wrong?"

"Snape saw my boggart, and I was too flustered to do anything about it. He's probably still sneering to himself about it now."

"Well let's go have a drink then, and forget about it" Charity said, breaking her train of thought.

"Do I look okay?" Clio asked

Charity appraised her for a moment, then fluffed out her hair and unzipped her jacket. "There, now you do." Clio looked down dubiously at her exposed chest, then hugged the jacket closer around her body.

"That defeats the whole purpose of unzipping it."

"Just till we get outside the castle; no one here needs to see that," Clio said. They stopped in the staffroom first, to look for Clio's camera. Clio eyed the wardrobe suspiciously, but for the time being it remained silent and immobile. Her camera was not on the side table where she had been certain she'd left it. Charity helped her go over the entire room, but it was nowhere to be found. Charity was past ready to leave, but Clio was distraught.

"It'll turn up, stuff goes missing all the time. Let's go have a drink, forget about it, and by the time we get back it will probably have turned up," Charity said, herding her toward the door. Clio allowed herself to be pushed out rather reluctantly.

They were almost to the front entrance when rapid footsteps approached from behind.

"Clio!" She turned to see Remus loping up. Both women halted. Clio tried to stealthily pull the ends of her jacket closer together to cover herself up, but abandoned her efforts after glancing down and realizing that this succeeded only in making what little cleavage she had more prominent.

He nodded to Charity, then turned toward Clio and addressed her directly, "I found this in the staffroom during my class and took it for safekeeping." He reached a hand into his robes and pulled out Clio's camera, handing it to her with a sly smile.

"Thanks," she said, flooding with relief. "I must have left it there earlier today. How did class go, with the boggart?"

"Spectacularly well," he said, unable to suppress a wolfish grin. "Someone may or may not have taken a picture that you'll find particularly amusing. I hope the contents of said picture will justify the unauthorized use of your camera."

She cocked her head, "I guess I'll have to develop it to find out."

"Thanks for going back for that book, by the way," he said. "You didn't need to do that."

"What book?" she asked coyly, one side of her mouth quirking upward.

His eyes fluttered down and up, then, taking in her change of clothes, "Well it looks like you're headed out, I don't mean to keep you."

"We're just headed over to the Three Broomsticks," said Charity, "You could join us if you want."

"Oh, no, no thanks," he said, looking away and retreating towards the great hall, "I appreciate the offer, though."

Clio trailed his retreat with her eyes for a moment before following Charity out the door.

"If you're looking for a rebound then that's definitely not it," Charity said, as they walked across the grounds to the gate.

Clio barked out a laugh, "Trust me, that's not what I had in mind."

"Mmm-hmm," Charity said, linking arms with her and practically dancing her down to the gate. They disapparated with a bang as soon as they'd passed the winged boars, reappearing a moment later in the center of town. The Broomsticks was practically empty when they ordered cocktails and appetizers, but by the time their food came out a healthy crowd had started to gather.

Charity charmed a pair of youngish Ministry workers over to their table, and a second round of drinks was soon purchased. They were pleasant enough company, and became more interesting the more Clio drank, but she quickly decided that she was fine with never seeing either one of them ever again. Charity, meanwhile, seemed to like the slightly darker, handsomer one of the two. This left Clio with his slightly duller and less handsome friend. At some point during the third round, Charity pulled her to the ladies room for a conference.

"So what do you think?" she said, checking her hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Oh … ehhh," she said, "What about you? You seem to like whatshisname."

"Aidan. He's asked if I want to meet him here next Saturday night."

"So do you?"

"Maybe, haven't decided yet," She swept a stray eyelash from her face. "He wants to double with his friend, Nigel."

"Oh," Clio considered this, frowning slightly.

"There'll be live music," Charity said, dangling the one carrot that she had correctly guessed would sway Clio's decision.

Clio sighed, "Okay, but if the band sucks I'm leaving early."

"Great," Charity said, smiling. "We can always say that you're not feeling well."

Charity set up the date, while Clio did her best to make it clear to Nigel that she was just supporting her friend without coming right out and saying it. He seemed just as apathetic about their date as she felt.

The two witches were still tipsy when they appeared back at the school gates. When the dementors guarding it didn't back down immediately, Clio sicked Domino on them.

"Oh darn, we saw a dementor," Charity said as they walked back to the castle, "Guess we'll have to break into the chocolate."

They leaned against the fountain in the courtyard, sharing a bar of extra dark chocolate while Nox took her late night perambulation.

"So, what are you looking for? In a man," Charity clarified, when Clio looked at her strangely.

"A 12 inch wand," Clio quipped.

Charity laughed, "I'm serious. Have you dated a lot? What kind of guys do you like?"

Clio considered her question carefully before answering. "I guess I've had four actual relationships. There's never been any sort of pattern or rhyme or reason to any of them. They all just sort of happened. I don't know that they even had much in common with one another."

Charity's eyes widened, "Wow, so you don't even know what you like, yet."

Clio frowned. "I've never thought of it that way. All I know is he needs to have the right sense of humor and appreciate music. Good music."  
>"That's it?"<p>

Clio shrugged. "How many guys have you dated?"

"14, and I didn't really figure out what I really wanted until number eight. I need stability. Dependability."

Clio nodded.

"Have you ever dated a muggle? I'm just curious. I don't have anyone else to talk about this stuff with! It drives me nuts," Charity said, savoring another bite of chocolate.

"Sort of, once."

"Tell me about it."

"It was just for a summer, between sixth and seventh years. I started advanced training in runes that summer, and found a cheap sublet with an MIT– university student. That was my first boyfriend. He was really sweet."

"So what happened? How did it end?"

"I just left at the end of the summer. I couldn't imagine dating him long-term; never even told him I'm a witch. I kept one of his t-shirts, though."

Charity sighed, "I've dated several muggles. None of them worked out, obviously, but I still don't want to limit myself."

Clio zapped the pile of poop that Nox had just left under one of the rosebushes so that it disappeared, reappearing in the compost pile by the side of the greenhouses. They walked back inside and said their goodnights. Clio was halfway up the stairs to her room when she remembered the camera, which she'd concealed in a pocket of her jacket, and turned back downstairs to the dungeons. She was very conscious of her boot heels clicking on the stone corridor, especially as she passed Snape's office. The barest hint of light crept out from under his door.

Clio developed negatives and took a look at them using one of the projectors she kept in the lab for the students. She scanned through the whole roll, looking for the one that Remus had taken. It was at the very end, and she did a double-take when she saw it, then let out a great guffaw. She pulled out several sheets of paper and developed first one print, then another, then another, giggling the entire time. She stared at the finished prints and laughed some more, then packed them in separate envelopes and scribbled notes on each one, giggling still. She cleaned up the lab, hoping that if she stalled long enough Snape would be asleep by the time she left.

When she finally tip-toed out as quietly as she could in her boots, the light was gone from the crack under Snape's door. She paused and listened, and after not hearing anything for a few seconds slid one of the envelopes through the crack. On the outside of the envelope she'd scrawled, "Is this your boggart?" Inside was a glossy print of what appeared to be Snape in old-lady drag, surrounded by laughing students.

She scampered off as soon as the envelope had left her finger tips, not wanting to be anywhere nearby when he discovered it. She taped a second print to the inside of the now boggart-free wardrobe, to be discovered by whoever opened it next. The third she slid under Remus' office door. Nox sniffed at the door suspiciously, and had to be carried, growling, back to the stairs.

The sky was uncharacteristically clear the next morning, and the sun pouring in through the window woke Nox early. The dog stared up at her until Clio rose to take her outside. As she returned to the castle, she was greeted by Snape's snarling face. His eyes bored coldly into hers. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, but otherwise he remained startlingly calm for someone who was so obviously seething with anger.

"Hey," she said, moving around him to run up the stairs at her usual clip. He sprang forward himself, running deftly up the stairs and easily keeping pace alongside her.

"I suppose you think you're clever?" he spat.

"Come on, even you have to admit that it's funny."

"Funny? Did you and Lupin have a good laugh over it together?"

"Have you ever laughed at anything?" she asked, ignoring his question.

They reached the second-floor landing, and she paused for a moment, taking a menacing step toward him, "That picture wouldn't have been taken if you'd told me about the boggart in the first place." She whirled around and continued up the stairs, continuing the conversation when he continued to pace alongside her, "Wasn't that your idea of a joke? Did you enjoy the little show you set in motion?"

"It wasn't what I expected," he said softly, cold eyes completely unreadable.

"The way I see it is that we're even, now," she said.

They'd reached the third floor landing, and still he shadowed her up the stairs.

"What I want to know is, what did you do to that boy to make him so afraid of you?" she asked.

"Longbottom is afraid of his own shadow," he sneered.

"His shadow didn't pop out of that wardrobe."

"I treat him the same way I treat all of my students."

"Really? That's not what I've heard. I hear Draco Malfoy gets special treatment." They'd reached the fourth-floor landing now, and instead of waiting for a response, Clio ran on. To her consternation, he kept up with her.

"His father is on the Board of Governors."

"So? Do you crawl around licking all their boots?"

"You don't understand the precarious position … you have no idea..." he was so angry now that he couldn't complete a coherent thought.

"What?" They were on the fifth floor now, and Clio strode furiously down the corridor to her office. He looked around, apparently just now realizing that he'd followed her all the way up to her private quarters.

"I don't have time to school you in British politics. If you cannot handle the political machinations in Britain then you should go back to America," he said. Then he turned and stormed back down the stairs. She watched him retreat. Nox, standing by the door, wagged her tail and barked.

Remus Lupin discovered the envelope she'd shoved under his door that morning as he was about to depart for breakfast. Curious, he lifted it up and read the single line of text scrawled on the front.

"You were right, definitely justified."

Smiling, he turned it over, opened the unsealed flap, and slid the photograph out. It had come out even better than he'd hoped; the sunlight streaming in through the windows catching the confusion etched on boggart-Snape's face as it cringed away from the circle of laughing students, backing away from Neville Longbottom, who cracked a smile and began to laugh.

Chuckling, he placed the photograph carefully in a desk drawer that held other private papers.

The third photograph was discovered later that day by Pomona Sprout, who had stashed one of her extra greenhouse robes in the wardrobe before the boggart moved in two days before and had been waiting patiently to retrieve it. She leaned in close to peer at the strange woman in the photograph, then broke into a series of giggles as she realized what it was. She took the photograph to Professor McGonagall, who shared it with Professor Flitwick. By the end of the day it had made its way through the hands of most the teaching staff.

Remus and Clio shared knowing smiles at dinner. Snape scowled at them both, but said nothing more.


	6. Kappa, My Kappa

Clio received a reply from Calliope at breakfast several days later. She hadn't known about the Hogwarts letters, either, but urged Clio to not think too ill of their father.

"Big V was still in power when I started school," she wrote, "and he'd only just been overthrown before you started." She changed subjects abruptly to tell her that her two children were doing well, and that she thought they might be able to visit Gran for Christmas. Calliope had always been the peacemaker. She ended with a post script.

"P.S. Dad told me what you're doing for them. I wish I could help more, but you know how things are." Clio sighed, and tucked the letter into her messenger bag. She was still preoccupied with it when she ran into Remus in the main second-floor corridor. She noticed that he was looking slightly less scruffy these days. He looked at her curiously, and to stop him from asking whether she was all right, she asked him again about the grindylow.

"Well, I won't need it for a few weeks. We've still got red caps and kappas to get through," he said.

"Kappas!" she said, smiling. "I have actually caught kappas before."

"Really?" She had captured his full attention, now.

"Salem sits in swampland – the school board likes to call it a 'series of ponds' but it's really a swamp. Anyway, there's a Japanese botanical garden in Boston that a pair of Kappas 'escaped' from once. I have my suspicions that they were liberated by some particularly ambitious students, because they ended up on the school grounds. There're tons of them, now. We used to catch them and put them in the RAs' bathrooms – an RA is like a prefect."

He smiled, shaking his head. "How'd you catch them?"

"Cucumbers, of course."

He folded his arms across his chest, "I'm having a Kappa delivered this Saturday." He gazed toward a window for a moment, struggling with himself before turning toward her and asking, "Do you want to help wrangle it, if you're not too busy?"

"Sure," she said, without a moment's hesitation.

"Meet me in my office on Saturday at 10."

She was about to walk into her classroom, but stopped and asked, "Where are you going to keep it?"

He smiled, walking backwards down the hall away from her, a mischievous gleam in his clear gray eyes, "I'm still working on that. The prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor is an ideal size, but I don't think they would appreciate sharing it."

Later that day, Clio was stowing her first batch of essay assignments in her bag for later grading when Charity called from the doorway.

"Knock, knock."

"Hey, what's up?" Clio said, dropping the grade ledger into her bag and slinging the strap over her shoulder.

"How are the runes holding up? Still keeping Peeves out?"

"So far, so good." Clio joined her friend just outside the door and closed it behind her, renewing the incantation that sealed the door as she did so.

"So, are we still on for Saturday night?" Charity asked.

"Of course. The only other thing I've got going on is kappa wrangling in the morning."

"Huh?" Charity wrinkled her nose.

"I'm helping Remus with a kappa for class."

"Remus, hmm?" Charity said with a mischievous smile.

"What are you suggesting with your Chesire grin?"

"Just that, maybe kappa-wrangling will turn into Lupin-wrangling and you won't be interested anymore."

"It's not like that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive!"

"I'm not saying, 'let's go out and get laid,' I just thought it'd be nice to go out and have some fun."

"It would be nice. Let's go have some fun."

"You can always change your mind."

"Stop! We both know I'm just going for the music, anyway."

Charity laughed. "Just checking."

That Saturday morning, Clio dressed in her usual weekend wardrobe of worn-in jeans, _Doctor Who_ t-shirt, and ratty sneakers before strapping her wand to her hip. The weather was growing cooler, so she threw an aging plaid flannel on top. Small holes were beginning to form on the shoulder and cuff of one sleeve. She'd tried repairing it several times, but it just unraveled again later, as if the fabric was determined to expire.

She met Remus in his office just before 10. He seemed startled that she had actually shown up.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yep," he said, eyes flicking over her casually. "You could pass for a student," he said mildly.

She snorted, "Maybe a few years ago."

He looked at her curiously, "How old are you?"

"22, almost 23. How old are you?"

He grimaced, "33."

"That's not so old."

"Some days I feel much older," he sighed softly.

"So where are we picking this thing up?" she asked, just to change the subject.

"At the front gates, but first we need to stop in the kitchens."

"For cucumbers?"

"Yep."

They strolled through the kitchens, where the house elves were bustling about, already working on preparations for lunch. He grabbed two large handfuls of the vegetables from a cold bin, handing half of them to her. She stuffed them one by one into her shirt and jeans pockets, while he tucked them into the pockets of his robes, each cucumber disappearing so that their pockets seemed to remain empty.

"Is there a cucumber in my pants, or am I just happy to see you?" she said, as the last cucumber disappeared into her front jeans pocket.

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, that line made more sense when my friend Bernie used it."

The delivery wagon was late, so they leaned against the front gates, chatting under the winged boars that guarded them. The dementors loomed in the distance, making it difficult to relax. Remus remained especially wary.

"They at least seem to be keeping their distance today, so far," he commented, handing her a piece of chocolate before biting into one himself.

"Our souls must not smell particularly appetizing."

He smiled very slightly at her joke, and she suddenly got the courage to ask about something that had been bothering her since the week before.

"So, what do you know about Lucius Malfoy?"

"That came out of the blue."

"Yeah, sorry for the non sequitor, I just happened to think of it now."

"Well, he comes from a very old pureblood wizarding family, he's on the Board of Governors, and he's not exactly friendly towards muggles, or to anyone who isn't 'pureblood' for that matter. Why do you ask?"

"Just something Snape said. So, is Malfoy a Death Eater?"

Remus looked slightly uncomfortable now, and he lowered his voice as he answered, "He's never been convicted of anything, but some of us believe he was in Voldemort's inner circle."

"Some of us?"

"Sorry, long story, and one that I'm not at liberty to tell." His look and the the hushed tone of his voice told her he was serious. Her first impression had been correct, then, she thought. She could only speculate about the depths that lay hidden beneath those gray eyes.

"How'd he stay out of Azkaban?"

"He claimed he'd been imperiused, like many of the Death Eaters did."

She nodded, contemplating his answers for a moment before asking him next potentially hairy question. "Is that how Snape stayed out?"

Remus waited a long time before answering, a muscle working in his jaw, "No, Dumbledore vouched for him personally. Claimed he'd switched sides, turned spy even before Voldemort's downfall."

"That explains a couple of things," she murmured.

"You seem very interested in Death Eaters," he said, tensely.

"I've been thinking about my grandfather a lot, lately." He didn't say anything in response, waiting for her to elaborate. After a moment, she did.

"No one was ever charged with his murder, and neither my grandmother or father have ever been very forthcoming about that whole time."

"You think maybe Snape can tell you something?" he asked, his tension easing.

She shrugged, "I doubt it, but I don't really have any other leads."

"When was your grandfather killed?"

"I was 4, so 18 years ago, almost 19."

"Snape would have only been 14 then. He wasn't a Death Eater yet, although he was heading in that direction."

She laughed ruefully, "At least I can rule him out. Not that he was ever a suspect."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you any more. You could try to ask him," he said with a grimace.

She laughed again, more naturally this time. "You're much easier to talk to."

He looked away, jaw twitching. The cart had finally appeared a ways down the road, and was coming rapidly toward them.

"Okay, you might want to get a cucumber ready," he said, pulling one from his robes. She pulled out one of her own and began inscribing her name on it with her wand, watching him as he marked his.

"What's your middle name?" she asked, craning her neck to see.

"John. Same as my grandfather."

"My dad's name," she said, completing the "s" in Callimachus with a flourish. "My middle name also comes from my grandfather," she said, sighing and moving her thumb so that he could read it.

"Ambrosia?"

"I would have been Castor Ambrose if I were a boy," she said, making a face. "Ambrosia is also the name of this really gross muggle dessert made with whipped cream, marshmallows and coconut."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"I can't stand marshmallows; they're too sweet."

"Your mother's a muggle?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "She was never particularly enamored with magic, either. I don't think she was expecting both her daughters to turn out to be witches. Sorry, I'm just rambling." She felt her face grow warm; she'd forgotten that she was complaining to someone whose own life must have been worse than hers.

"That's all right."

"No, really, whenever I start whining like this, just tell me to stop."

"Look, our kappa is here." He stepped forward to greet the driver and sign the delivery confirmation in return for taking possession of a hissing, thrashing crate. From the way he sped off, they gathered that the driver was very glad to be rid of it. The kappa inside threw its entire weight against first one side of the crate, than another, and they heard boards cracking.

"He must be hungry," Remus murmured.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yep." He lifted the lid of the crate with one hand, wand held ready to stun the creature if necessary. One scaly arm shot out and got a hold of the lid before Clio could toss the cucumbers with their names on them inside. The kappa hissed and spat, trying to maintain its hold on the crate while twisting it's neck around to get the vegetables. Clio caught a glimpse of its human-like eyes, and felt sympathy for it despite knowing that after cucumbers, its favorite food was children. Remus threw his weight onto the lid, slowly forcing the kappa's arm back inside. Finally it withdrew, exchanging freedom for food. It grumbled as it munched through the cucumbers, but it was docile and sat quietly in it's crate as they floated it between them back up to the castle.

"Where do we go now?" Clio asked when they reached the stairs.

"I've prepared a little pool for it in the second floor girl's bathroom, since no one goes in there other than Moaning Myrtle."

"Smart. I think I'd rather share a bathroom with a Kappa than her." She'd made the mistake of going in there herself one day, since it was so close to her classroom. Myrtle's whining had convinced her that running down to the first floor was not so bad.

The gloomy ghost took one look at the kappa before zooming down into her u-bend with a wail. They released the monster into a 10 by 10 pool, complete with reeds for it to hide in and a big flat rock for it to lay on and sun itself during the day. They fed it a few more cucumbers, and then Clio marked a few runes on the door to keep it from escaping.

She would have liked to spend more time with Remus, and she was almost positive that he would have liked to spend more time with her, but she had had requests from a few students to open the photo lab on Saturdays, and so that's where she spent her entire afternoon.

That evening she cleaned up and made herself pretty to go with Charity to Hogsmeade, again. She couldn't wear the same outfit as last time, and so stepped out in a borrowed skirt and blouse along with her high-heeled boots. The live music that had been advertised turned out to be a male/female pair of singer-songwriters playing cello and lute. They weren't half bad, and Clio ended up talking music with them for a while between sets, while her "date" chatted up the buxom innkeeper. She even gave them a card for an up-and-coming luthier in the States who also happened to be one of her best friends.

"Henry's brilliant," she said, "The shop where he works is looking to expand, so you should at least check out their catalog," she said as they polished off their beers and headed back on stage.

"So, what do you think?" Charity asked her when she returned to their table.

"They're pretty good. I really liked that last song," Clio answered.

"Not the band, Aidan."

Clio shrugged, "It doesn't really matter what I think."  
>"I think I'm going to tell him he can send me an owl."<p>

"Will you actually respond to it?"

"Maybe." She checked her watch. "We should probably head back in, oh, an hour. Can you hold out that long?" she asked, tilting her head toward Aidan's friend, who was still flirting with Rosmerta.

"Yeah," Clio said, not realizing until then that it was after 11. "That's actually pretty early by my usual standards."

"Yeah, well, things close up kind of early around here, unless you want to go to the Hog's Head. That place is pretty sketchy, though, it's better with a group. Or with Hagrid, he's like a group unto himself."

Clio ordered another drink and resigned herself to another hour of politely dull conversation (punctuated by rather raucous clapping and hooting at the conclusion of each song) while Charity and her date engaged in foreplay. And then a funny thing happened. Clio chuckled at her friend, and the guy across from her chuckled at his friend, and their eyes met and rolled, and they bonded over the fact that they were stuck talking to each other. Then their conversation actually started getting interesting as they exchanged stories of bad dates and strange things that had happened to them in bars or out with friends. By the time they all left, he had graduated from the, "So long, nice meeting you," rubbish heap to the, "Maybe I'll see you around here again some time," junk bin.

Charity, meanwhile, was suddenly acting very coolly toward the man who she'd been playing footsie with earlier, and Clio got the distinct impression that the offer to send an owl had been rescinded.

Charity scowled as they walked through the school grounds up to the castle.

"What happened?" Clio asked.

"He's anti-Muggle."

"Oh. What'd he say?"

"That Muggles and wizards shouldn't mix, that it's better for them to stay separate."

"Ahh. What was his reasoning?"

"Does it matter?"

Clio shrugged, "I could see how some people who saw a household like my parents might form that opinion. Not that I agree with it." She added hastily when Charity glared at her.

"How could you defend him? You wouldn't be here if your parents hadn't gotten together!"

"I know, I know! I'm not defending him, I'm just saying that ..." she sighed, knowing that no matter how she phrased her answer, Charity was not going to like it. "I don't have a problem with muggles and wizards marrying and having babies. It's a good thing, if we want there to continue to be wizards. I just have a hard time looking at my parents' relationship and saying 'that's a good thing.' They're the reason I don't go home too often."

"Well, there are crap marriages on both sides."  
>"I know."<p>

"Is that why you couldn't see yourself getting serious with your muggle boyfriend?"  
>"That's part of it, I guess," Clio said. Charity didn't ask any further questions, but Clio could tell she was put out. "It's a personal preference thing. I just find wizards more attractive. Conjuring water out of thin air and producing a patronus is sexy,."<p>

Charity's eyes narrowed, but she was also grinning again, "So you're attracted to power."

"What? I've never thought about it that way."

"Would you date a wizard who couldn't produce a patronus?"

Clio hesitated, giving herself away.

"No patronus, no nookie? You're tough."

"If _I_ can produce a patronus..."

"Not everyone can. That's okay, though … more men for me. The right guy is the right guy, whether he's a muggle or a wizard–"

"Or a werewolf?"

Charity's eyes widened, "Oh, ouch, touché."

Clio laughed.

"So, do you like him?"

"I like him as a friend. I don't know if I like him, like him."

"But you wouldn't rule him out."

"He can cast a patronus, so, no," Clio laughed again.

They stopped back at Charity's room first, where Clio shimmied out of the clothes she'd borrowed and back into her own.

"Just be careful," Charity said to her, looking and sounding quite serious. "A guy like that has to be carrying an awful load of emotional baggage."

Clio nodded noncommittally, knowing that her friend was right, but not knowing for sure whether this bothered her or not.

Clio was the fifth person to enter the staffroom for the mandatory meeting a couple of weeks later. She found Snape and Remus sitting at opposite corners of the room, staring each other down. Professor McGonagall sat in a stiff backed chair, tutting over the most recent issue of _Transfiguration Today_ as she circled errors with her owl feather quill. Dumbledore sat by the fire, humming what sounded like a Weird Sisters tune.

"Hey," she said as she sat down near Remus. His eyes turned towards her, while Snape turned to glower out the window. "Who won the staring contest?"

"I'd say it ended in a stalemate," Remus said, propping his chin up on one hand. He looked paler than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Clio was about to ask him if he'd been out late the night before when she remembered that the moon had been full.

Before she could think of something else to say, the other staff were filing in and taking seats around the room. Clio watched them pick seats with mild amusement, making guesses as to what criteria they used to pick their spots. Pomona chose a soft short-legged chair to match her soft short-legged body, Flitwick chose a tall-legged chair to put him more or less at eye level with the other staff. Aurora chose a chair close to the fire because she hated to be cold, Professor Vector chose a chair far from the fire – maybe she didn't like to be too warm. Dumbledore was still humming, and almost unconsciously Clio began singing along very quietly under her breath. She was still singing along a few moments later when she felt McGonagall's withering gaze and realized that she was also tapping out the drum line on the floor with one boot heel. She stopped singing and tapping immediately, face flushing hot.

"Ahh, Professor Callimachus I take it you are a Weird Sisters fan," Professor Dumbledore said warmly.

"They're all right," she said, her eyes sliding towards Snape, who had referred to them as "rubbish" just the other day. He met her gaze, and she wished for a moment that he would say it again, just so she could see Dumbledore's reaction. He said nothing, but she thought she saw that ghost of a smile, just a pull at the corners of his mouth, for an instant before he looked away.

Professor Trelawney was the last to enter, once again. Clio noticed her counting the people in the room before sitting down in the chair closest to the door. Clio turned to her right and exchanged an eye roll with Charity, then turned toward Remus on her left. He stared at the floor, head propped up on one arm.

"Everyone is here, so let's get this meeting underway," Dumbledore said. The first part of the meeting focused mainly on the dementors. There had been no more incidents like at the start of the term, but there had been many complaints from students as well as staff. Aside from the grey and gloomy weather, the specters dampened everyone's moods. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were the most outspoken about the deleterious effects of their presence. Even the amount of wine and spirits being consumed by staff had risen.

"I don't know how the Ministry expects us to teach when the students are all depressed and half the teachers are three sheets to the wind," Professor McGonagall complained, looking sharply at Professor Trelawney. Charity snorted.

"That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it is a good reminder to staff to reach for the chocolate before reaching for the liquor," Dumbledore said.

"Reach for the chocolate stout," Pomona stage-whispered, getting chuckles from three-quarters of the room.

"Excellent suggestion," said Dumbledore, "Now I believe Madam Hooch has something to say."

"Yes, with quidditch practices underway, I want everyone to be particularly mindful that there will be students heading back and forth from the pitch in the evenings. The dementors have stayed by the gates so far, but better safe than sorry. The first match of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, is just a month away."

Clio's eyes shot to McGonagall and then Snape, who were nodding to each other like opponents who were about to duel.

"Ah yes, that should be quite a match, I hope to see everyone there," said Dumbledore. "Now Minerva, I believe you have a question."

"Yes," she said, looking suddenly very fierce. "Who is responsible for the kappa in the prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor?"

A burst of laughter shot from Clio's mouth before she could clamp her hands over it. Everyone's eyes were on her for a moment, except for Remus, who was suddenly sitting up and looking very alert.

"It's in the prefects' bathroom?" he asked.

"Yes, Percy Weasley discovered it there this morning," McGonagall said.

He sighed. "I think it's obvious who is responsible, then," he said.

"Fred and George," McGonagall moaned, "I might have guessed that myself."

"Sorry," said Remus, "I made the mistake of letting them feed it the other day. It was so content in the second floor bathroom I thought we could keep it there a while longer, but I guess we'll have to release it," he said, looking at Clio for the last part of his statement.

"That bathroom's actually been usable for the last couple of weeks, now that Moaning Myrtle has vacated it," Clio said. Charity and Pomona both nodded in agreement.

"Yes, she's been moaning in the pipes near my office for the last couple of weeks," said McGonagall, not amused. "I think finding another home for it would be for the best."

Clio looked at Remus and smiled deviously, "I think I know of a great home for it, provided international shipping is allowed." She didn't notice Snape boring holes through them both with narrowed eyes.

Remus smiled wanly, "I like the way your mind works," he said.

They coaxed the kappa back into its crate that evening and floated it between them back to the front gate. They didn't talk much, listening instead to their feet swishing through the fallen leaves that coated the ground, and the kappa grunting to itself as it crunched through the dozen or so cucumbers that they'd packed with it.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" she asked, breaking a long stretch of relative quiet.

"You can ask anything you want, I can't guarantee how I'll answer, though," he replied warily.

She paused for a moment, phrasing her question carefully, "Why is it that Snape hates you, if you don't hate him back?"

"Ahh, hmm..." he stalled, staring off into the distance. Clio waited patiently for him to answer. She believed that he knew and just wasn't sure what to tell her.

"It isn't for some stupid reason, like your condition, is it?" she asked, hoping that she wasn't going to far. He looked at her curiously. Clio stood frozen by his silvery gray eyes.

"No, not entirely at least," he said at last. "He never liked my friends James and Sirius when we were in school, and they didn't like him, either. I suppose I am guilty by association." He turned toward the road, watching for the delivery truck.

Clio turned his answer over in her head, filling in the last names that he hadn't supplied. "Oh. Wow, I had no idea."

"They also played a rather nasty prank on him once involving 'my condition' that he assumed I was in on."

"Why would they do that to _you_?" Clio asked. He fixed his curious gaze on her again, as if she might be an alien.

"Why did the Weasley twins move the kappa to their brother's bathroom? They were 15."

"I guess," she muttered. "So he's still pissed about it 20 years later? Someone's got issues."

"It's only been 18 years," he said with a wry smile, "I'm not that old."

It was at breakfast perhaps a week later that Clio received her first ever howler. The red envelope arrived in the beak of a tawny owl from the Hogsmeade post office. Students throughout the hall murmured and ducked as the owl swooped past, craning their necks to follow it's progress up to the staff table. Clio only turned her attention from her cereal once it became painfully obvious that the owl was heading straight for her.

"Ah, crap," she muttered, as the owl dropped the angrily pulsing envelope into her waiting hands.

"You might want to open that outside," Charity said. Without bothering to respond, Clio jumped up from the table and ran for the staff-only side door that led through a short corridor to the kitchens.

The letter burst out of it's envelope just as she reached the door and Jenn's voice shouted out, "YOU BITCH!" to the entire school before she could escape into the corridor beyond.

"Did you think it would be FUNNY to send a kappa to my office?" Then Jenn's warm laugh surged forth. "Yeah, it was pretty funny. It brought back a lot of memories, actually. Wyatt and I let it go in the swamp. It's probably not a bad idea to introduce some new genes to the pool. Here's some pictures we took. Helena is getting so big! You have to come visit next summer. Man, I hope you get this in front of the entire school. See ya!"

Clio shook the pictures out of the envelope and walked back into the hall as nonchalantly as possible. Most people had returned their attentions to their plates, but she caught a disapproving glare from Professor McGonagall. She noticed Remus looking her way and trying not to smile, and walked up to him, nodding sheepishly at Professor Flitwick as she passed him.

"It was a joke," she said, handing him a picture of Jenn smiling with the kappa on the boardwalk that wound through the Salem swamp, and then another one of her husband nudging it into the water. "Here's where I lived," she said, pointing to one of a network of round wooden lodges on stilts in the background.

His eyes widened. "You weren't exaggerating," he said.

"Nope," she said.

"Are you still up for grindylow hunting?" he asked. "It's okay if you've changed your mind."

"No, I mean, yes of course I'm still up for it. When were you thinking?"

"Halloween? Most of the students will be in Hogsmeade for the day."

"Perfect."

"You weren't planning on going were you?"

"Been there, done that," she said.

"The water won't be too cold?"

"Not with my wetsuit."

"Okay then," he said, shaking his head and smiling at the pictures.


	7. Halloween

"We've got to plan something for Halloween," Charity said that night at dinner.

"Like what?"

"Like a party, after the feast. We always have a party afterward in the staffroom."

"Okay," Clio said, then frowned. "Doesn't it feel a little odd to celebrate a day when people died?"

"Halloween came first. And it's also the day that he-who-must-not-be-named was overthrown. Plus, if we banned celebrations on every day when people died, there wouldn't be any left. "

"Yeah, I guess."

"Hey it's been a while since we went into Hogsmeade, We should go for your birthday."

"Hmm, okay," Clio responded noncommittally.

"I know it's not the most exciting place," she said, "but where else are we going to go?"

"Edinburgh?"

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously, we should go to Edinburgh some time. It's got haunted castles, plenty of bars, a decent live music scene. Plus, I'm a sucker for a Scottish brogue."

"Okay, you've sold me, but that's too far to take a big group when school is in session. Dumbledore would never approve it," Charity said.

Clio shrugged. "How about the Hog's Head, then?"

"For your birthday? Are you sure? It's really dirty, and full of sketchy characters."

"Really? That sounds awesome, actually."

"You know Lupin won't be able to go, right?"

"What?"

"Full moon."

"Oh," Clio frowned, "right, I keep forgetting."

Halloween was crisp and clear, the perfect kind of fall day that Clio had missed during her time in Egypt. She ate breakfast early, then returned to her room to change into her wetsuit. Remus accompanied her down to the lake, betraying anxiety at letting her go in the lake alone.

"I know, you're perfectly capable. I'll just be here in case you need anything," he said, smiling.

"All right. If I get myself in trouble, then I fully expect you to jump in to rescue me," she said teasingly, knowing that his presence was of a more social nature.

They walked to a sunny, level spot about 50 yards from the grindylows' main territory, figuring that it would be much easier to sneak up on one if she didn't jump in right on top of them.

"Watch my clothes for me?" she asked, kicking off her sneakers and sliding out of her cloak. Her wand was already belted to her hip.

"Of course," he said, setting himself down on the grass and folding the cloak into a square next to him. He handed her the slimy ball of gillyweed and clear bag that he had carried for her, careful to keep his eyes directed at her face and not at anything covered by her skintight rubber suit.

"Thanks."

"You're doing me a favor," he said, pulling a book from his robes, but not opening it.

She smiled crookedly, "This is fun for me," she said, the last words out of her mouth before swallowing the gillyweed and plunging into the cold, clear lake water.

He watched the widening ripples she left behind, and continued to watch the surface even after they had disappeared. Finally, he opened the book, and alternated between staring at the pages and at the lake.

Beneath the surface, Clio kicked smoothly toward the weedy patches where she knew the grindylows liked to congregate. The giant squid zoomed up to her, but she waved it away. It blinked at her, chastised, then trailed after her like a giant puppy as she approached the water demons' territory. So far there was not a grindylow in sight. She dropped down closer to the weeds, then hung motionless to watch and wait.

It struck her, and not for the first time, how ridiculous her volunteering for this mission had been. She'd never attempted to catch a grindylow before, so what was she trying to prove? After several minutes, she noticed some of the tall kelp-like plants sway and bend, as if they were being pushed aside by small bodies. She ducked down behind one of the spreading fronds, and a moment later spied a group of about a dozen grindylows swimming her way. They didn't seem to have noticed her, so she tucked herself deep into the plant cover, waiting for them to get close enough for her to grab one.

The group took their time, swimming aimlessly, almost playfully, it seemed. She noticed a couple of more lethargic ones trailing the others just a bit. If they continued on their path, then the smallest one would pass within a few feet of her hiding spot. Grabbing it may turn out to be easier than she'd imagined. She tensed up as it drew even with her. She felt a pang of guilt for what she was about to do, and hesitated.

"I'm doing this for Remus, and for the students," she thought. Then, just as it passed her by, she sprang, grabbing one spindly leg with her right hand and bringing the bag over it's head with her left.

For one glorious moment she thought she had it, but before she could pull her arm from the bag, it twisted around and grabbed on to her wrist with both hands and started to haul itself up her arm. It took all of her self-control to not let go of the bag. Instead, she commanded the bag opening to seal itself around her right arm, freeing up her left, and began kicking hard for the surface. The giant squid was nowhere to be seen, now. She regretted shooing him away now that she could use some cover.

As soon as the grindylow, latched to her arm inside the bag, realized what she was doing, it opened it's mouth and began to wail. All the other grindylows turned on a dime and rushed her. The runt she'd captured was now trying to fight its way out of the bag. It tried biting through the fabric, but the enchantments on it held strong. The only thing blocking it from escaping through the opening was her arm. It changed tactics and sunk its surprisingly sharp little teeth into her hand. Clio screamed (the sound muffled by the gillyweed) but didn't try to pull free. She was almost to the surface. The other grindylows were coming up fast, arms outstretched and teeth bared. She grabbed her wand and sent them tumbling backward with a stunning spell, then shot to the surface before they could regroup.

Remus was watching the lake when her head popped up. He waved, and she waved back with her wand hand. She tried to call out, something witty like, "There's a grindylow on my other hand," but with the gillyweed still in her throat she just gagged. She swam fast for the shore, imagining the other little demons grabbing hold of her legs. The lake bottom sloped up sharply so that soon she was standing in chest deep water.

She coughed out the gillyweed and tossed it back out into the middle of the lake, hoping that if the grindylows were still following her the splash would distract them. As she waded towards shore, the rapidly plummeting waterline frightened the captured grindylow into letting go of her arm. Not fully comprehending the existence of the clear bag, it turn itself around and shot toward the bottom, attempting to swim back down to the depths of the lake. Clio withdrew her bloody arm and resealed the bag, then lifted it up in triumph.

"Ta da! He's kind of a runt, but he put up a hell of a fight," she said, brandishing her bleeding hand, which bore an ugly bite wound.

Remus had already realized that something wasn't quite right, and was on his feet and by her side the moment she stepped out of the water. He took the bag from her, wincing at the sight of her bloody hand. The grindylow, which had calmed down momentarily, suddenly started thrashing again.

"That looks bad. You should have Poppy put some dittany on it right away."

She appraised the teethmarks, then shrugged. "It's actually barely bleeding, now. I never bleed much, see?" She held her hand closer to his face, displaying that the dark red lines from the creature's teeth had already begun to close up. He shied away, and Clio realized that the blood made him uncomfortable. She dropped her hand, curling her fingers into a fist. "I'll have Poppy take a look at it," she said.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you do this," he sighed.

"I'm fine, really," she said, reaching out for his shoulder with her good hand, and then punching it lightly at the last moment. "I know how not to catch a grindylow, now."

"I'll find a way to make it up to you," he said, looking her intently in the eyes.

"Careful, I'll hold you to that," she said, feeling a familiar heat bubble in her stomach. She probably would have walked back to the castle barefoot, and in nothing but her wetsuit if he hadn't handed her her cloak, then. She threw the cloak around her shoulders, tucked her hands into the pockets, and stepped into her shoes.

The grindylow was still squirming violently within its bag. She cocked her head sideways to look into its panicked eyes.

"I kind of feel sorry for the little bastard. You're sure the tank is big enough?"

He shook his head, smiling, "Of course. He'll probably eat better in there than he has been in the lake. We'll fatten him up a bit so when he goes back he won't be such a runt."

She smiled back, guilt somewhat assuaged.

"Hold on a moment," he reached for her hair and pulled free a stray frond of seaweed that had caught itself there.

"Thanks," she said, heart beating a little faster than normal.

"No trouble," he answered. They walked back to the castle together and parted ways on the second floor, when Remus took the still squirming demon to his office and Clio continued up to her own office on the 5th floor to change.

"Get that bite looked at," he called after her as she continued on up the stairs.

Clio nodded. "I'll be back later to check that the little bastard is properly housed," she said.

"I'd expect nothing less," he replied.

She meant to go straight to the hospital wing after changing into jeans and her favorite flannel, but when she was halfway down the stairs she remembered some prints she had left in the lab the day before, and (since her hand had stopped bleeding on its own) continued on down to the dungeon.

Strange smells floated along the hallway. The door to Snape's office was cracked open, and she could see flickering light and wisps of smoke emanating from within. Her pace slowed as she lifted her nose and sniffed at the sharply scented smoke. It wasn't anything she recognized. Curiosity piqued, she approached the cracked open door.

"What can I do for you Professor Callimachus," Snape said in a bored voice, as the door opened wide. Clio backed up a step, startled that he seemed to know she was there before she'd even peeped in. He wasn't even looking towards the door, but staring thoughtfully into the steaming cauldron on his desk, steadily stirring the contents, his face partially obscured by his long black hair.

"Nothing. I was just passing by. It smells very … potiony in here," she said. He nodded, saying nothing and still not looking up.

"So, what is it?" she asked, taking a couple of furtive steps into the room. She'd never entered his office before, and she looked around now at the jars of strange slimy creatures and potion ingredients, gaze lingering on one labeled _Gillyweed_.

"So, which one of these jars holds your heart?" she asked, mouth quirking up on one side.

At last he looked up at her, his expression unreadable. She got the feeling that she was being appraised. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms and attempted to rub some warmth into them with her hands. Her right hand had begun to throb from the grindylow bite, and rubbing it against her arm made it worse.

"It's wolfsbane potion," he said.

"Oh," she said, then, "Oh," again as understanding sunk in. "That's nice of you."

"Nice? No. I'm not making it to be nice. Not to him," He stared at her pointedly, lip curling in an unpleasant smirk. "My only motive is the safety of the castle's inhabitants."

"Well, it's good of you then," she insisted. "Does it taste as wonderful as it smells?"

"Slightly worse, I'm afraid," he said, dark eyes gleaming as if he was pleased by this fact. "What happened to your hand?" he asked shortly, continuing to stir the cauldron.

"My hand?" she asked, tempted to stuff both hands into the pockets of her jeans, but realizing that it was too late.

"Your right hand. It's red and swollen," he said.

"Oh, this?" she said, holding it up and pointing to the bite, which just happened to mar the base of her middle finger. "It's a grindylow bite."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Unable to leave it at that, Clio continued, "I went into the lake to catch it, and it didn't want to be caught, apparently."

"Imagine that," he said silkily.

"Yeah, it preferred it's freedom," she said. "The nerve."

Clio thought she caught his ghost smile flit about at the corner of his mouth for the briefest of moments. He gave the wolfsbane potion another stir, examined it closely for a moment, and then stepped around his desk.

"Let me see your hand," he said. She offered it hesitantly. He grabbed it roughly, pulling it closer, and she winced in pain. "It's stopped bleeding on its own," he said, brow furrowed.

"What are you doing?" Clio asked, tensing at his grasp.

Without bothering to answer, he stepped to the shelves along the wall, running a long slender hand along the rows of bottles until he found the one he wanted, a small vial containing a brown liquid.

"Is that dittany?" she asked. "My sister always keeps some around."

"Perhaps you should as well, if you're always going to be so reckless," he said, and withdrawing the stopper, tilted the bottle just enough for a few drops to spill out onto her hand. The throbbing pain subsided immediately and her swollen middle finger shrank to it's normal size. He gave it a last cursory glance and let it go. Clio examined it herself, flexing it. The bite looked several days old and was barely visible now.

"Thanks." Suddenly conscious of how closely they were standing together, she stepped backward toward the shelf with the gillyweed. Snape backed away at the same moment, his attention returning to the smoking cauldron, his face hidden once again behind his hair.

During the long, awkward pause that followed, Clio considered leaving. She didn't, figuring that if there was ever a time to try and talk to Snape about anything, then it was when he was feeling nice (or _good_) enough to heal her hand.

"So, I hear that you dive on occasion."

"And where did you hear that?" he answered coldly.

"Dumbledore."

He sighed.

"So, do you?"

There was another pause before he answered softly. "On occasion. I dive to collect a few potion ingredients that are otherwise hard to come by."

"Oh, I see. Well next time you go, let me know and I'll come along."

"And why would I want you to come along?" he said, icily, frowning at her from between his curtains of hair.

Clio shrugged, deciding that bringing up diving had been a bad idea and wondering how else she could get in his good graces. "I could help you, and because it might be fun."

"Fun? I dive for work, not for fun."

"Work can be fun," she said, doubting that doing anything with Snape could ever be described as fun. "And, come on, giant squid! It's not every day you get to see a giant squid up close."

He looked hard at her then, dark eyes glittering, and that rare hint of a smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "I can see the giant squid any time I like," he said softly.

"Without diving?"

"Without diving," he said, looking into the cauldron as he stirred its contents.

"How, then?"

He didn't answer right away, and the silence stretched away for long enough that Clio thought that perhaps he had simply chosen to ignore her when all of a sudden he spoke.

"I can show you." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Come back in an hour." Clio glanced at the clock herself before replying.

"I'm going to be working in the photo lab for a while. If you don't see me here when you're ready, then just knock on the door."

"Fine," he said, attention focused once again on his potion. She left his office, and heard the door swing closed behind her.

Over the next hour she bound several of her prints into a black portfolio and mixed up fresh developing potions for the students. Merlin's Beard played the entire time, carrying her far from the dungeon on jangling guitar chords and mandolin melodies. She lost track of time, but knew that at least an hour had to have gone by since she'd left Snape's office. She suspected that he'd forgotten or (more likely) had just changed his mind about showing her the squid. She lingered in the lab, straightening things that didn't need to need to be straightened and rehearsing her question in a dozen different ways, none satisfactory.

She felt some trepidation when she heard his knock at the door. It opened with a wave of her wand, and there he stood; a pale face framed all in black, cold eyes taking in everything and revealing nothing.

"I just finished up," she said, "Has it been an hour already?"

He ignored her question. "This drivel again?" he asked.

"They're one of my favorite bands, so I may just have to fight you one of these days."

"I'm sure they appreciate your devotion," he retorted. Clio stashed her music box in her shirt pocket. He strode off down the hallway, deeper into the dungeons, while she was sealing the door. She had to run to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

She scanned the many dark, narrow corridors leading off of the main one that they had turned into.

"Do you know where all of these passages lead?" she asked.

"Of course."

Clio hugged her arms to her body. Aside from the cold, the stones down here were all imbued with creeping feelings of dread and despair. She shivered as they passed an especially dismal doorway.

Snape, who'd been staring straight ahead, turned toward her. He had lived in the castle long enough to realize that it was a sentient entity with memories and feelings, most of which he simply blocked out. She was still sensitive to the castle; he could tell that by the way she shrank inward as they passed the Bloody Baron's favorite haunt.

"We're almost there," he murmured.

She nodded mutely. He stopped suddenly in front of a bare stretch of stone wall, and whispered something in a voice too low for Clio to make out.

"There isn't going to be a pile of dead bodies behind there, is there?" she asked dryly.

He glowered at her as a concealed stone door slid open, revealing a long dark room illuminated by glowing green ceiling lamps and many tall, leaded windows that looked into the depths of the lake. A fire glimmered beneath an ornately carved mantle. Slytherin's emerald-eyed emblem adorned the chimney above. He stepped through the doorway and beckoned her to follow.

After a moment's hesitation, she did. There were many dark leather armchairs scattered about the room, but her eyes moved immediately to the windows. Soothing sunlight, filtered sea green through the water, scattered wave patterns around the room. Apart from the two of them, the common room appeared to be empty.

"Where are all the students?"

"Outside, for now, hunting jobberknoll" he said. "Gryffindors aren't welcome," he added, implying that she should be gone before they got back.

"I didn't think jobberknoll came so far north this late in the year."

"They don't," he said, eyes gleaming wickedly. He gestured to a large picture window near the middle of the room. She followed him over to it. They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the gently lapping water. A school of strange silvery fish passed by, then a long black eel with hundreds of sharp teeth glinting within its gaping mouth. He watched her shoulders relax as she followed the fishes' movements.

His gaze shifted to the lake depths, where he'd caught a flash of movement.

"There," he said, pointing to an arrow shape in the distance that approached rapidly. She nodded, a rare smile spreading across her entire face. The squid zoomed by, then turned on a dime and zoomed back to hover before them for a few moments. It stared at them with a great black and white doll's eye. Snape's eyes darted from the squid to Clio. The uninhibited pleasure on her face stopped him cold, and he looked away. Her allure got the better of him, and his eyes darted towards hers again. She was grinning still, and this time she turned and met his gaze. Her smile faded, and he felt the question that had been festering for some time bubble to the surface of her mind. He answered it before it had a chance to form on her lips.

"I don't know anything about your grandfather."

Her eyes widened. "What? How did you know I was going to ask you that?"

"Lucky guess," he said, black eyes glittering, face a white mask.

Her face flushed. "Am I that obvious?" When he didn't respond, she plunged ahead with her next question. "Do you know who might know?"

"Not unless you care to visit Azkaban to chat with them."

She nodded mutely, troubled eyes returning to the water.

The squid moved on, and (not wanting to be caught lingering here with her when the first and second years returned from the fool's errand he'd sent them on) he turned and walked back towards the door. She looked longingly out at the lake for a moment before following him out.

"There's a short cut to the ground floor. This way," he said, not looking to see that she was following him. They didn't speak at all along the way. They parted on the ground floor, when he headed outside, and she headed upstairs, thinking vaguely that she would take Nox outside for a run.

"Thanks, for the squid," she said, before he could disappear. He nodded and then slipped out the door.

Nox was eager to get outside. The day was still sunny, the sky an achingly beautiful shade of blue with only a few clouds. The dementors were also nowhere to be seen. Clio supposed that they would be concentrated around the entrances where the older students were leaving and entering on their way to and from Hogsmeade.

She threw Nox's ball over and over again, the dog not tiring of chasing it. Presently, Fang came snuffling up from the pumpkin patch near Hagrid's house and joined in the chase. Nox grew bored of the ball then, and started chasing Fang around, barking at him until he turned and chased her. Finally, both dogs dropped into the grass, tongues lolling as far out as they could possibly stretch. Clio plopped down next to them, stroking both dogs' fur and breathing in the musky smell of drying leaves and fading wildflowers. Relaxing in the cool air helped to make sense of the jumble of thoughts in her head, and the longer she looked up at the blue sky the harder it became to linger over her disappointment.

As the shadows grew longer, she stood and shook the leaves and grass off her clothes, said goodbye to Fang and ran back to the castle with Nox flying ahead of her. The students were returning, too, pockets full of candy, and filling the halls with excited chatter. Some of her students recognized her and called hello as she waded through them to the stairs and up to her room. Several wanted to pet Nox, and she stopped to accommodate them.

"Are those stink pellets, Weasley?" she called out to one of the red-headed twins. He looked at her innocently, trying to palm them behind his back. She sighed, "Just keep them far away from my classroom."

"Will do, professor," he said with a grin, bounding up the stairs, "I've got big plans for these."

There was one thing on her mind when she returned to her room to feed Nox and change into proper clothes for the Halloween feast. She left early, running lightly down the stairs to the second floor and turning down the hallway to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

The door was cracked open, but she knocked anyway. It swung open before her kunckles had finished rapping a second time. Remus stood by his desk, smiling thinly. An empty goblet stood on the corner. She recognized the pungent aroma of the wolfsbane potion lingering on in the air.

"Here to check on our demonic little friend?" he asked lightly, trying to ignore the tension that she brought to the room.

"Maybe," she said, smiling in the crooked way that never failed to make his heart beat a little faster. He looked toward the large tank in the corner of the room, and she followed his gaze up. The grindylow was currently hiding in a patch of seaweed, but she could see its sharp horns and wide, shifty eyes peeping out.

"How's your hand?" Remus asked, still troubled over it.

"All better. I had it looked at," she said, holding it up so that he could see the tooth-marks that had completely closed up. She purposely didn't tell him that she'd never bothered to go to the hospital wing. Some of the tension lifted from his shoulders. She walked closer to the tank to get a better look, and felt Remus come to stand beside her. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body.

"Do you want to feed it?" he asked, shaking her from a momentary thought of tracing her hand up his arm. She turned to look at him, and he was smiling warmly, eyes sparkling. She felt the heat wave roll up from her stomach to head.

"What does it eat?"

"They're omnivorous, so just about anything. I've got some scraps here from the kitchen." He handed her a cup of what looked like crumbled sausage and diced potatoes. She grabbed a pinch-full and stood on tiptoe to toss it into the top of the tank.

"Watch your fingers," he said playfully.

"Thanks for the tip," she said, letting the food drop into the water. The grindylow ignored it at first as it spread out on the water surface. She saw it's nostrils start to flare though, and soon it came darting up from the weeds to investigate. Before long it was grabbing a bite at a time with it's long thin fingers. It moved amazingly fast, and Clio felt foolish for underestimating it earlier. She turned to smile at Remus, and he smiled back, their eyes connecting for a beat before she looked down to scoop up and toss in another handful of food.

"Shall we go down?" He asked.

"Yes, let's go down," she said suggestively, just to make him blush. "To the feast," she added. He shook his head as he took the food from her and put it away, but he was smiling as they walked down the stairs together and into the hall for the feast.

"You're coming to the after party, right?" she asked.

"Oh, is it definitely on, then?"

"Charity says so. I have complete faith in her ability to make it happen."

"Then I'll be there."

"Excellent," she said, turning to take her seat by Charity while he continued on down the table to his seat by Professor Flitwick, who was putting the finishing touches on his decorations from where he sat. Clio hadn't noticed them before, and she looked up at them now, especially taken by the orange streamers that slithered along the ceiling like snakes.

"What have you been up to all day?" asked Charity.

"I mostly bummed around the castle."

"With-" Charity bumped her head knowingly toward the middle of the table.

"Some." Clio said.

Charity considered her with narrowed eyes. "You must like complicated men," she said.

Clio shrugged.

Charity whispered into her ear. "I saw the way you were looking at each other when you walked in."

"Really?" Clio tried to imagine how she had looked. "That reminds me, remind me to go easy on the wine later."

"Okay." Charity said, "and to pick up a few teabags if you haven't already."

Charity laughed as Clio gave her a playful shove.

"Hello ladies, I'm not goin' to have to separate you, am I?" Hagrid said, taking his seat at the end of the table. Clio was happy to see him in a good mood for the first time since the term began. The Halloween feast reminded her of Thanksgiving back in America, and she felt a pang of longing for her family.

The elves had concocted a few vegetarian pasta dishes this time and had even prepared a sort of hummus that wasn't actually bad. Clio was pleased when she succeeded in convincing several other people to try it. Most of them took just enough to be polite, but Hagrid liked it enough to devour a large scoop and then go back for seconds. Of course, he ate everything in such large quantities that it was hard to judge how much he had actually liked it.

In addition to the meal, entertainment had been arranged. The ghosts' formation gliding was amusing, but by that point Clio couldn't wait for the feast to end. Charity's comments had made her nervous for the party and what might come afterwards. She wished she'd spent longer on her hair, and hoped that her breath was okay.

Finally, dessert was cleared and the students began filing out to their dormitories. Clio lingered behind in the hall with Charity to try and convince Aurora and her husband to stick around for a while. By the time they convinced them to join them in the staffroom, the students had completely cleared out. Hagrid and Pomona were already there, sunk into adjacent armchairs. Poppy and Madam Hooch were not far behind. No sooner had they started the music and cracked open the first bottle of wine when Professor Flitwick burst in.

"Party's canceled! There's been a break in! All the students are returning to the great hall. We need everyone here to help search the castle." The music shut off with a wail. A collective chorus of consternation rose up.

"A break in? How? Who?"

"Apparently, it was Sirius Black. We don't know how, yet. All right, everyone pair up. Aurora, come with me. Clio you go with Hagrid."

"I'll go with Charity," said Professor Sprout. Flitwick nodded, "Rolanda and Poppy then. The others are already searching, wands out, let's go."

Clio and Hagrid were assigned the ground floor including the kitchens, and the owlry. Clio followed Hagrid, wand in hand. Although he carried no wand, Clio thought that his great size and formidable fists carried their own advantages. He also carried a rather curious umbrella, almost like a security blanket, that Clio supposed might do for a weapon in a pinch.

They crept silently down each hallway, and she marveled at how such a large man managed to move so carefully. At the kitchen entrance they lit their wands to penetrate the deep shadows gathering in the seemingly endless pantries. They searched each darkened corner, finding nothing more sinister than strings of drying peppers and racks of smoked hams.

They retraced their steps back to the main stairs, meeting up with Professors McGonagall and Lupin there.

"There's no sign of him of him in Gryffindor tower," McGonagall said sternly. "No sign of the Fat Lady, either."

"The Fat Lady?" Clio asked, confused.

"The one from the painting that guards the tower entrance," Remus explained.

"Black slashed it to ribbons," McGonagall said.

"Oh." Clio thought that Remus looked shaken.

"We didn't find anythin' down here, either," said Hagrid. "We're movin' on to the Owlry, next."

McGonagall nodded approvingly, "Very good, I'll report to Dumbledore. Remus, can you check on the students?"

"Of course," he answered, peeling off without meeting Clio's eyes. She looked after him for a moment.

"Ready?" Hagrid asked.

"Yeah, let's go, " she said.

Their search of the owlry was similarly uneventful. They determined that Black was not there pretty quickly, and then spent some time peering out the many windows, thinking that if he was still on the grounds that maybe they'd catch a glimpse of movement from this height. Hagrid pointed out Harry's owl, Hedwig, a beautiful snowy white bird who was impossible not to appreciate.

"Well, I'm finding all the good make out spots," Clio joked to Hagrid as they returned once again to the staff room. There were so many hidden shortcuts and odd little doors and passageways leading down from the owlry that it was after 2:00am when they returned to the staff room.

Except for Dumbledore, who was interviewing paintings to find a replacement for the Fat Lady, Filch, who was searching the dungeons, and Snape, who was making a second pass of the third floor, the search of the castle was complete. Everyone else stood huddled in a circle, too riled up to sit down.

"It's the anniversary tonight, isn't it. Is that why he broke in?" Clio asked.

"We think so," McGonagall answered her.

"I just don't understand how Black could have gotten past the dementors without them even seeing him," Charity said.

"The dementors didn't stop him getting out of Azkaban," Remus said softly.

"What's the point of even having them here, then?" Charity demanded.

"Dumbledore definitely wouldn't mind getting rid of them," Pomona responded.

"Nor would I," Flitwick shuddered. "What I want to know is how he got past all of the protective enchantments on the castle."

"He's obviously learned from his master," Remus said, sounding pained. "He was always very clever."

Snape returned from his search of the third floor just before 3:00am, reporting that it was clear. Clio noticed that his eyes kept sliding toward Remus. If Remus was aware of Snape's scrutiny he didn't acknowledge it. He seemed too wrapped up in his own troubled thoughts to acknowledge much of anything. Filch returned soon after, and Snape volunteered to check in with Dumbledore.

"We never even drank the wine," Charity said, as they shuffled off to bed.

Clio snorted. "I'm ready for greasy eggs and hash browns."


	8. Remember, Remember the 5th of November

The students were moved back into their dormitories the next morning before breakfast, which was a very subdued affair. The sky was as gray and gloomy as everyone's mood. No one, students or staff, appeared to have gotten any sleep. Clio would have liked to nap all day, but she had essays to grade. On top of that, Dumbledore summoned them all to the staffroom early that afternoon for a meeting about the stepped up security measures.

"With some help from Professor Flitwick, I will be renewing the protective charms around the castle today. Professor Callimachus, would you be so kind as to lay some defensive runes over the entrances to the castle to add an extra layer of protection, Mr. Filch can show you around."

He didn't sound like he was asking, so Clio nodded to Filch, who looked especially dour. He grudgingly bobbed his head in return.

"And everyone needs to keep a watchful eye out for Harry Potter from now on, inside the halls as well as out on the grounds. He should not be going out after dark."

"What will we do about evening quidditch practice?" Professor McGonagall asked. "Potter won't want to give that up." Griffyndor's match with Slytherin was fast approaching, and Clio suspected that McGonagall was just as concerned about the outcome as the Gryffindor team.

"Surely quidditch isn't as important as Potter's safety," Snape said silkily from his usual spot in the corner.

Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps an alternative can be worked out, but in the meantime you should have a talk with him."

"Yes, you're right, of course," McGonagall frowned. Snape's eyes gleamed, all the smile he needed.

Clio spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the castle from end to end with Flich, using her wand to trace swirling combinations of Algiz, Eihwaz and Isa around the many doors that he led her to. He watched skeptically as she repeated the protective runes, muttering the incantations that would bind them to the wood and stone. When he interrupted her once to inquire how long she intended to go on mumbling to herself, she glared at him fiercely enough to cause him to shut his mouth with a hard, fast click of his teeth. His interruption having nullified the spell, she started over from the beginning, shooting him a look that dared him to disturb her again. He didn't.

They didn't have much to say to each other in between doorways, until Clio remembered that Dumbledore had mentioned earlier that he would be responsible for restoring the Fat Lady's portrait. She asked him how that was going. He seemed startled by her question, and doubtful as to her interest.

"I won't be able to start until we're done with this nonsense," he grumbled. "You can't just wave your wand and fix a centuries old painting like that. First, I have to find the right thread to stitch the canvas, and then the right medium to fill in the details."

Clio nodded. "I imagine there's some trial and error involved."

He snorted. "It's a long, slow process."

They paused before another door, this one used by the house-elves working in the kitchen. Clio went to work, tracing the runes as she muttered the words that would bind them to the stone.

"How will the elves get in and out, if this spell actually works?" Filch demanded when she was done.

"It's not designed to keep everyone out, just anyone who doesn't belong or who means to cause harm." He fell quiet once more as they continued on and Clio, fresh out of conversation topics, didn't attempt to talk to him again other than to thank him for escorting her around the castle when they were through. He grunted again as he stalked off to his office, presumably to get back to the real work that she had been keeping him from.

Although she never had Potter in class, their schedules were such that she saw him in the halls quite frequently, and made a point of following at a respectable distance whenever she had the chance. She soon learned that he spent almost all his time outside of class with Granger and Ron Weasley. The Weasley girl, Ginny, seemed to trail the trio whenever she had a chance. At first Clio thought she was just trying to stay close to her big brother, but by watching her subtle body language, quickly worked out that she had a crush on Harry. He seemed oblivious to it; unless he noticed and was just callously choosing to ignore her.

She bumped into Remus, Flitwick, McGonagall and Snape trailing Potter on occasion, as well. She took advantages of these opportunities to fall into step with Remus and chat him up. While he was always polite, he'd seemed closed off ever since Halloween night, and try as she might, she couldn't get him to open up again.

After several frustratingly restrained encounters, she was beginning to think that she'd only imagined the romantic connection between them. A few days before her birthday, she fell in step with him along a windowed first floor hallway, glancing sideways to admire his profile. The thin afternoon light illuminated the silver hairs scattered throughout the honey gold and brown. His cheeks glinted silver as well.

"Growing a beard?" she asked, pointing to his face, tempted to run her fingers along the line of his jaw, but brushing her own cheek instead for emphasis.

"No," he said, rubbing his cheek and chin with one hand, rather self-consciously. "Hmm, I can see why you thought that."

"Just a little one o'clock shadow?" she said, jokingly.

"Shaving around the full moon is a bit of a pointless endeavor, I've found," he said tiredly.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot it was that time of the month," she said, wanting to sink into the floor.

"That's all right," he said, turning the full force of his silvery gray eyes on her for a moment as he studied her face with curiosity. His gentle smile made a tentative appearance, the first time she'd seen it in days. She smiled in return, warm relief flooding her body.

"Here's my stop," he said, nodding to the entrance to his classroom just across the hall.

"Right." she said, realizing that she'd missed her stairway several yards back. "I'll see you later, then?"

He nodded, still smiling as he strolled through the door. Since she was already most of the way there, Clio decided to continue on to Charity's classroom to say hello before dashing upstairs to her next class.

The weather worsened over the next couple of days, sliding from still and gray to blustery and gray and, finally, to gray and stormy. Towards the end of the week, a truly spectacular thunderstorm broke out. Clio encouraged the members of the photography club to try their hands at shooting long exposures of the lightning. She carried her own camera up to the owlry, taking advantage of the open windows to get some shots of the lightning struck sky. She even captured a few of the owls spreading their wings and snapping their beaks at the storm.

In the staffroom later that day, she caught Remus off guard. He was standing and gazing thoughtfully out one tall window, while framed by another. Periodic lightning strikes threw his careworn face into sharp relief.

"Don't move," she said, pulling her camera from her messenger bag. He froze like a statue, and she smiled. "Okay, you don't have to stand perfectly still, but stay in that spot. The lighting is perfect," she said, then added, "please?" He responded by turning slowly to look at her, smiling with his silvery eyes but not his mouth. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or the approaching full moon, but she saw a bit of wolf in his face. She triggered the shutter and the camera whirred as he gazed at her, then turned again to look out the window. The lighting flashed on, then off. The shutter closed.

"Thank you," she said.

"For letting you take my picture?" he asked.

"It's going to be a really good picture," she said, joining him at the window. She smiled up at him during a blaze of white light, then turned to face the window when she couldn't withstand the force of his eyes. They stood silently, side by side, watching the rain. Clio felt the warmth radiating from his body like a magnetic pull, drawing her closer.

"I'm sorry I won't be able to join you on your birthday," he said.

"That's okay," she said. "You could invite me over for a drink, sometime, instead," she added a moment later.

When he didn't answer right away, she worried that she'd misread him.

"All right," he breathed at last. She felt all the weight lift from her body and dared to look at him again. Whatever he'd been about to say next was lost when the door opened and Professor Flitwick walked in. Instead, Remus turned back toward the window, pretending to be very interested in the storm.

"Missing Egypt, yet?" Flitwick asked, gesturing to the trees whipping in the wind outside.

"I'll take this over a sandstorm, any day," was her reply.

Clio spent most of her time in the lab that afternoon helping the students adjust their printing techniques to make the most of the lightning flashes. By the time the last one left, there were just enough developing potions and time before dinner for her to make a few prints of her own. She was just stacking her batch of dry prints when there was a knock at the door. The one of Remus by the staffroom window lay on top. Some intangible quality of the ambient light perfectly captured the care in his face, and the sadness in his eyes. A lightning flash periodically lit up the entire frame, so that it switched on and off, light to dark, at regular intervals.

"It's open!" she called. Snape slid into the room, dark eyes gleaming. He was obviously pleased about something.

"Looking forward to the Gryffindor-Slytherin match this Saturday?" he asked, in his most unnervingly soft voice.

"Yes," Clio said warily, waiting for the cutting sarcasm that must inevitably follow this seemingly innocent question.

"I'm sorry to report that you won't have the pleasure of watching Gryffindor fall to Slytherin, then."

"What? Oh, so you admit that Gryffindor is going to win?" she said.

"Slytherin won't be playing this weekend. I'm afraid we're still without a healthy seeker. You'll be playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Seriously? After two months." Clio rolled her eyes.

"Still sore," he answered.

"Huh. Seemed well enough in Runes the other day."

"Because your 'class' is as strenuous as playing quidditch."

"I know a faker when I see one," she countered. "Is that everything you wanted to share, or did you have another reason to come in here and bother me?" She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms over her own chest in challenge. His eyes, darting around the room, fell on the stack of photographs near her elbow.

"Interesting," he said. He walked around her to pick up the stack of photographs, and stared closely at the first one for a few seconds before holding it up. "This is a remarkable image," he said. "Do you know what would make it even better?"

She didn't answer, waiting for him to complete his thought. She knew that if Remus was involved he wouldn't have something nice to say. He held one long, thin hand over the left side of the image, completely covering the subject, so that the lightning-filled window was all that remained.

She was already smiling and shaking her head before he said anything.

"Cut it off, right here," he said softly. Clio released a short sharp bark of laugher from her belly.

"I'm not joking," he said, black eyes boring holes into hers.

"I know, that's why it's funny," she replied. She was no longer laughing, but her half-smile remained.

He frowned, with something like revulsion etched on his face. He dropped the photograph onto the counter, eyebrows and mouth shifting as if he were fighting with himself over what to say next. Clio watched him silently, arms still folded. Finally, he tossed a scrap of folded paper onto the counter and slunk out as smoothly as he had entered.

She waited, heart pounding, until the door had slid shut before picking up the scrap and unfolding it. It was a list. Written in a tight, spidery script were several names:

Avery  
>Crouch<br>Dolohov  
>Mulciber<br>Nott  
>Rookwood<br>Rosier

_Burn after reading, _read the smaller script below the list. No sooner had Clio performed a memory charm than the scrap of paper burst spontaneously into flames. She dropped it in the sink and watched it disintegrate into ash.

It was dark and the storm was still raging the next morning when Clio rose for breakfast. As much as she enjoyed the seasons, days like these made her long to stay in bed. She was too sleepy to notice Charity and Hagrid exchanging a conspiratorial wink when she sat down at the staff table. She greeted them with a gutteral, "mmph," and began to mechanically chop up a banana to mix with her cereal.

"Clio, you should drink some of this, it will really wake you up," Charity said, sounding much too enthusiastic for such a dismal morning. She was pointing to Clio's mug, which looked to be filled with an especially black sludge today. Clio just nodded, barely looking up before going back to her banana.

"Here's the milk," said Hagrid, sliding a small pitcher toward her.

"Thanks Hagrid," Clio said. She swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal and fruit. Something at the table smelled very good. It was a rich, earthy smell with hints of nuts and spices. She breathed in deep, turning her head to try and identify what and where it was coming from. Next to her, Charity and Hagrid were cracking up.

"What's that smell? Do you smell that?" She asked, suddenly awake.

"Smell what?" Charity asked innocently, then laughed out loud.

Clio looked at the steam rising from her mug, then picked it up and sniffed hesitantly. "Holy fucking shit!" She took a deeper whiff, "It's fresh coffee! Where did you get it?" she asked, then took a sip without bothering to add milk.

"We ordered it through a catalog. Dumbledore let us set up monthly deliveries," Hagrid said.  
>"Aurora and Pomona pitched in, too," Charity added.<p>

"Seriously?" Clio was floored. It was one of the nicest surprises she'd ever had on her birthday, and certainly not one she was expecting from people who she'd only know for a couple of months. She peered down the length of the table to where the other two witches sat, and waved. They smiled back.

"Thanks, guys," she said, hugging them in turn. Hagrid delivered a spine-cracking bear hug that lifted her off of her feet. She walked down to the other end of the table to thank Aurora and Pomona, catching up with Dumbledore on her way back.

"You're welcome, Clio," The old wizard said warmly.

"Where's Remus?" Clio said, noticing his empty seat.

"He's not feeling himself," Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling. "Severus is actually taking his classes today."

"Really. That should be interesting," Clio said.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore responded, a strange glint in his eye.

Clio's birthday plans had changed significantly since the break-in on Halloween. Instead of going out, they'd decided to stay in. Charity had saved the wine from the Halloween party that never happened, and the idea now was to put it to good use. She thought that if she drank enough, then she wouldn't think about Remus curled up alone in his office.

They each carried a bottle up to the astronomy tower a little after 10:00pm: Aurora and her husband, Pomona, Flitwick, Hagrid; more than half the staff, in all. Even Snape showed up. Clio produced a bottle of exquisitely dry Assyrtiko and passed glasses to everyone.

She took a sip and then held out her glass. "ΥΓΕΙΑ."

"Yamas," they responded, and then all drank, some grimacing at the acidity.

"Wow, that's strong," Charity said, smacking her lips. "It's got kind of an earthy aftertaste."

Clio nodded, "That's from Santorini's volcanic soil. Who wants seconds? I've got another bottle."

The full moon would have outshone most of the stars in the sky that night if it weren't clouded over, but it wasn't stargazing that they had in mind. They cast clear shields around the tower to keep the wind from tearing the drinks from their hands. Flitwick had come toting a large sack of fireworks, which he arranged in intricate patterns, threatening to jinx anyone who touched them before he was ready. Clio had brought the music. Snape sighed deeply when Elphaba + Her Boyfriends began pouring from the blue box.

"How did you describe her voice the other day?" she asked as she refilled his glass, "Like a kneazle in heat?"

"Something like that," he said flatly.

The fireworks show started at 11:00, accompanied by raucous whooping and cheering. The music transitioned to Fiendfyre, and drunken dancing began soon after. Snape refused to join in, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest whenever Clio, too intoxicated to be bothered by the countless things about him that usually irritated her, tried to pull him up from his leaning spot. Unfazed, she alternated between being pulled around in a circle by Hagrid and spinning and dipping Charity to the general amusement of all the males present.

"What was your objection to Fiendfyre, again?" she asked Snape during a lull.

"Aside from their name?"

"Yeah, Fiendfyre would seem more appropriate for a Swedish black metal band," she said, nodding along to the joyful blend of accordion, organ, hurdy-gurdy and guitars. "I think it's supposed to be ironic."

He sighed, "Everyone wants to be ironic, very few are successful."

She laughed, "Some day I will find a band that you like."

"I think that is highly unlikely," he said, frowning and sipping his drink.

"Care to place a wager?" she said, eyes flaring. His stony glare seemed to suggest that no, he wasn't interested; but he stroked his lips with one white hand, as if he was contemplating what would make an appropriate bet. "I know," she said, "If I can find a band that you like, then you have to go diving with me."

"That's it? That's your bet?" his eyes glittered in the glow of a distant lightning flash.

"Yep, that's it," she said. "For fun."

His lip curled, "Fine. And when you fail? What then?"

"What do you mean, 'when I fail'? There's no time limit on this bet. I said 'some day.' That gives me until, well, I suppose until one of us is dead," she said with her devious half-smile.

His face went blank, "That might come sooner than you think," he muttered icily.

Clio was about to ask him what that was supposed to mean when Charity grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the dancing circle.

The party went on till well after midnight, breaking up only once the thunderclaps began to drown out the music. Clio again lost track of how much she drank. Laying alone in bed (which insisted on spinning around her), Remus was very much on her mind. Despite all of the alcohol coursing through her blood, sleep was a long time coming.

Any of the excitement Clio had had at watching her first Hogwarts quidditch match died when she woke up on Saturday morning with a pounding headache, and saw the rain lashing against the windows in the wind. She may love thunderstorms, but not when she was hungover and had to be outside. She dressed and whistled for Nox to come with her for a walk. The dog lifted her head just long enough to look at the rain-streaked window before curling back into a ball.

"Sorry, dog, you're going out to pee whether you want to or not," Clio said, throwing on her cloak and scooping the dog up with one arm. Nox squatted just outside the door, under the shelter of Clio's raised cloak, tucking her tail between her legs and raising one paw in supplication when she was done. Clio relented, picking her up and carrying her back into the castle.

"You barely even got wet," she chastised the shivering dog as she pulled the door closed behind them to keep out the rain. Snape was just emerging from the dungeons for breakfast when Clio turned toward the main stairs.

"Great day for a quidditch match," he said with a sneer.

"I like the rain," she answered, somewhat truthfully.

"Enjoy yourself, then." Something about his smooth-as-silk voice made her head throb more intensely.

"Does that mean you won't be there?" she asked.

"I have no reason to be, since my team won't be playing," he replied.

"Well then, I will enjoy myself," she snapped, her temper threatening to get the better of her. That seemed to be exactly what he wanted, because he wore a smug little smirk as he continued on into the great hall.

The quidditch pitch was practically a swamp by the start of the match. The charm on Clio's cloak kept her body dry, but the wicked wind blew the rain sideways into her hood, so that her face soon stung from the force of the water. Charity carried a large yellow umbrella that kept threatening to lift off into the wind. The two witches clung to each other to keep from being pushed over as they ran to the quidditch stands. They found seats in the front row next to Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Charity and Pomona both wore bright yellow cloaks for Hufflepuff. McGonagall's was scarlet for Gryffindor, and Clio felt slightly left out in deep blue. She would have to go to Gladrags for a hat, scarf and gloves one of these days; perhaps they would have them in red and gold.

Gryffindor Lee Jordan sat nearby, using his post as color commentator to rant about the Slytherin team's cowardly decision to skip out of the match. McGonagall scolded him for his bias, but Clio couldn't help laughing out loud. This earned her a stern glare from the assistant headmistress.

"I agree with him," Clio whispered.

"Oh, so do I," McGonagall admitted with a scowl. Clio glanced over her shoulder towards the color-coded crowds of students behind her. Most of the school had turned out despite the weather. The green-clad Slytherins no longer looked so smug after being called cowards.

Dumbledore, Snape and Flitwick sat directly behind the four witches. Dumbledore looking cheerful in bright purple, apparently not minding that there was a small waterfall running off the sodden end of his beard. Flitwick looked quite content inside a climate-controlled bubble. Snape was barely visible within the shadows of his black cloak.

"I thought you weren't coming out," Clio taunted.

"Oh, I convinced him," Dumbledore said cheerily.

Remus was absent, of course. Most likely still curled up in bed, she thought. She imagined curling up with him for a moment-

Charity bumped Clio with her elbow, passing her a flask of firewhiskey. The flask made several rounds around the group, remaining blessedly full on each circuit.

The players were soaked by the time Madam Hooch blew her starting whistle, which Clio could barely hear over the wind and thunder. Once the players leaped into the air on their brooms it became difficult to see anything, either.

"How much is the snitch worth again?" Clio asked, scanning the sky through her binoculars for the tiny winged ball.

"150 points," Charity said, then jumped up screaming as one of the Hufflepuff chasers scored. "You're not even paying attention," she complained, as Clio continued to scan the sky for the snitch.

"Unless they get to 150 it doesn't really matter what the chasers are doing," Clio said. "Oh shit! Potter almost took a bludger to the head."

"That's not the point! The chasers make it exciting," Charity argued.

"The bludgers are cool," Clio countered. "Let me know when either team gets to 100."

The sky was darkening rapidly, and Clio had only barely caught a flash of the snitch when the first lightning struck. Madam Hooch blew her whistle for a time out, and the players all splashed to the ground, kicking up muddy water. Clio was just taking another swig of the firewhiskey when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and found herself face to face with Hermione Granger, whose hair was not bushing out for once, but flattened against her head from the rain.

"Professor Calli! How do you keep the rain off your cloak?"

Clio swallowed the alcohol, suppressing a cough as it ran the wrong way down her throat.

"Use the impervius charm."

"Impervius?"

"Tap it once with your wand and say _impervius_," she said.

"Right. Got it, thanks!" the girl called over her shoulder, running out to the field where the Gryffindor team was huddled. Curious, Clio watched through the binoculars as Granger tapped Potter's glasses with her wand. Gryffindor's keeper looked so happy that he might throw himself on her.

"Got it the first time, no practice," Clio said to Charity, who shook her head and whistled.

"Tsk, tsk, Professor Sprout, doesn't that sound like interference with the match?" Snape's voice flowed silkily out from the depths of his cloak, now leaned in close behind them.

"You've no right to point fingers there, Severus," McGonagall said testily.

"I didn't hear interference, I heard a professor instructing a student who was not directly involved," Pomona said, taking another slug from the flask. Clio turned her head slightly and pretended to scratch an itch on her cheek with her middle finger.

"Very mature," Snape murmured, leaning back. Clio and Charity exchanged smiles.

The time out ended and the players leapt back into the air. Clio was still not having much luck spotting the snitch, so she started cutting back and forth between the seekers and goals. Gryffindor was 50 points up, and as exhilarating as she found the storm and the match, she hoped that the snitch would be caught sooner rather than later. The Hufflepuff seeker had just gone racing after a tiny gold speck when Clio felt a wave of ice hit her belly. This wasn't from the wind. Charity screamed, pointing toward the field, and Clio swung the binoculars down and right into a seething mass of grey and black. Dementors, dozens of them, had congregated on the quidditch pitch.

She jumped to her feet, pulled her wand from a hidden pocket and sent Domino racing across the field with an excited bark. McGonagall's patronus, a large cat, sprung out right on the border collie's tail. Clio felt robes brush against her neck and shoulder, and saw Dumbledore leap down to the field in a flash of purple. He was moving faster than seemed humanly possible, projecting a silvery phoenix that flew circles around the dementors.

A collective gasp went up from the crowd higher up in the stands. Everyone looked up. Time stretched out as Potter plummeted from his broom. Only Dumbledore seemed to be moving at regular speed. He pointed to Harry with his wand, and the rules of gravity no longer applied. The boy's fall slowed. Clio thought his descent might stop altogether, but then he landed on the spongy ground with a sickening thud and splash of mud. A great splintering crash followed almost immediately, as his broom, which had continued moving without him, was pulverized by the whomping willow. McGonagall was the second to run down to the field, with Clio and the rest of the staff in the stands following behind.

Clio's head spun as she ran, looking out for the dementors. They had all fled, chased away by a veritable menagerie of patronses. Chaos reigned. The entire Gryffindor house stormed the field, and McGonagall attempted to herd them inside. Meanwhile, Dumbledore conjured a stretcher for Harry and floated him toward the castle. He was trailed by the Gryffindor team, Granger, Ron Weasley and the Hufflepuff seeker, who tried repeatedly to hand the snitch off to Harry despite the fact that he was unconscious.

"Congratulations Professor Sprout, Hufflepuff has won the match," Snape said. Pomona stared at him for a moment, white-faced, before turning and shouting for her house to follow her inside. Clio hung around the field, helping to gather and herd in the stragglers. Domino loped long slow circles around her until she reached the door to the castle, when he charged her at full speed, jumped into her arms and dissolved.

Once inside, Charity offered her a piece of chocolate. Clio didn't realize how shaken up she was until she reached for it and saw her hand trembling.

"Thanks, I never can remember to pack any," she said.

"Well, who could have expected the dementors to show up at the quidditch match?" Charity asked in a small voice.

Clio shook her head, taking a bite of the candy and letting it dissolve on her tongue. "I bet the Ministry will hear it from Dumbledore. Maybe he'll be able to get rid of them."

"I wouldn't bet on it, not with Black still on the loose."

"No?"

Charity shook her damp curls, "The Ministry isn't known for common sense. Hey, why don't you come on over to my office, I have a lesson plan on pop culture I want to run by you."

"Maybe later," Clio said, glancing toward the stairs, "I have some research I need to do."

"On werewolves?" Charity said, following her gaze.

"No, for class. I really need to go to the library. What about after dinner?"

"Fine, be that way," Charity pouted.

"You don't believe me?" Even though Charity was wrong about what she was really planning to research, Clio wondered what was giving her away.

"It doesn't matter, I'll see you at dinner, then," Charity sighed, turning and walking toward her office.

Clio made her way up the stairs, pausing on the second floor, tempted to wander by Remus' office but ultimately deciding that it was better to leave him be until he was feeling up to venturing out on his own. She continued on to the library and, the names from Snape's list burning in her mind, went straight to the _Daily Prophet_ archives to begin her search.

Clio spent most of that foul weekend poring through the Hogwarts archives. She had started with the _Prophet_, and after finding its coverage of the wizarding war lacking in depth, moved on to the alternative press. From what little she'd previously seen of _The Quibbler_, she'd dismissed it as a glorified supermarket tabloid aimed at the tinfoil-helmet-wearing crowd. However, it's coverage of various murders and disappearances from the 1970s were both in-depth and fascinating. If only half of its content was true, than the _Prophet_ was covering up so much as to be complicit with Voldemort's regime.

Her search overall was both fruitful and frustrating. Fruitful in that she learned a great deal about the First Wizarding War and Death Eaters, originally called the Knights of Walpurgis; frustrating in that the names Snape had given her led in circles, never connecting with her grandfather. The closest she came to him was confirming that Voldemort had vigorously recruited ministry employees to his cause throughout his rise to power, ruthlessly eliminating any who refused him; most often leaving the dirty work to another, but sometimes carrying out the deed himself.

Snape was right about one thing: two of the Death Eaters on the list, Dolohov and Rookwood, were imprisoned in Azkaban and the only way to learn more would be to talk to them directly. Of all the names on the list, Rookwood drew her attention. He worked for the Ministry, had spied for Voldemort there, and was responsible for multiple murders. For the time being, however, she could do no more.

In the meantime, she scribbled a note in runes to the one contact she had in the British press, and sent it out with one of the school's barn owls. He was very annoyed to be rousted from the owlry on such a blustery day, even after she promised him a treat on his return.

The storm blew itself out by the following Monday afternoon, but the temperature had dropped, serving as a cruel reminder that winter was on it's way. Clio had just sat down with a fresh stack of translations to grade and a hot cup of coffee in the staffroom when Snape skulked in with the day's _Daily Prophet _tucked under his arm. Clio barely looked up as he settled into his favorite low arm chair. She kicked off her boots and tucked her feet up under her on her favorite soft, velvety chair. The warmth emanating from the coffee and crackling fire made up for the chill seeping in from outdoors and from his countenance.

"Just make yourself at home," he said, frowning at her stockinged feet on the chair.

"They're clean," she muttered, her quill flying over the essay in front of her. "Hey, I looked up a couple of those names-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said coldly.

"Right, never mind, then," she sighed, returning to her grading. He said nothing else, and for awhile the only sounds in the room were the occasional snap of a log in the fireplace, the scratching of her quill, and the soft clinking of her coffee cup as she lifted and lowered it to and from her mouth. When she heard the rasping sound of a second quill, she glanced over at him and noticed him scribbling into the paper. Curiosity eventually won out over her annoyance with him.

"Is that the puzzle page?" she asked.

"Where else would I be writing in the paper?" he said dully.

"The personals? 'Missed Connections?' 'Post Confessions?'" she asked. "They're fun to read aloud. Readers theater style."

His eyes glittered at her for a moment before returning to the puzzle he was working on, and the room was quiet once more. The silence lasted for about a minute before he asked, "Yes?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking of asking something," he said.

"How do you know?"

"What is it?"

"What is what?" Clio said, taking another sip of coffee.

"Your question," he answered crossly.

"Oh, that. Are you working on the crossword or the rune puzzle?"

"I finished the crossword this morning."

"I know the guy who writes the rune puzzles. Vincent-"

"Lisica. Yes, a former student of mine. Not very skilled at potions, I'm afraid."

"Oh yes, I forget how _old_ you are sometimes," she said, her mouth twisting up on one side. "That actually doesn't surprise me, about the potions."

"His puzzles could be improved as well, I'm done with this one already."

"I'll be sure to let him know he should make them more difficult, the next time I speak to him," she said, wondering if Vincent had received her note, yet.

Their fragile conviviality was abruptly ended when the door to the staffroom opened, and Remus walked in, looked around, spied both of them, and strode up to Snape, nodding to Clio as he passed by her chair.

"Hello, Severus," he sighed. "I've just been informed by some of my students that you assigned them an essay on werewolves when you filled in last week."

Clio had been taking another sip of coffee when she heard this. She dropped her cup in her lap and had to do an evanesco charm to keep it from soaking her pants.

"You didn't leave any record of what you'd already covered, so I simply chose the most logical lesson topic," Snape answered calmly. "It seemed only fitting that it coincide with the full moon."

"You know very well that I left notes on hinkypunks for you."

"I must have missed them."

"I also left a hinkypunk in a glass box in the classroom. Didn't you see it?"

"Ahh, that's what that was for. I thought perhaps you'd gotten yourself a pet."

"From now on, stay out of my classroom."

"I was only there to begin with at the Headmaster's request."

"I've spoken to Dumbledore already, you won't be asked to fill in, again." This statement seemed to enrage Snape. Clio thought his head might explode, but instead he responded in his smoothest, most maddeningly icy voice.

"You don't intend to skip werewolves for the entire year, do you? Sooner or later you're going to have to get around to them, and then what will you do?"

Remus stared at him for a long moment. "Since I'm the resident expert on that topic, how and when it's taught should be left up to me."

Clio's mouth curved upward as he turned and stalked back toward the door. He paused near her as he passed by again, turning and acknowledging her with a polite, "Professor Callimachus," before walking out. Clio pulled on her boots, gathered her papers into her messenger bag, and stood abruptly to leave.

"And there you go, off to console him," Snape scoffed at her.

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" she snapped, then turned and strode out before he could respond. Remus had a substantial lead on her, and she practically had to run to catch up to him.

"Hey," she called, and he turned back, only slowing when he saw that she was alone. He looked a bit haggard, but his eyes shone bright.

"How was your birthday?" he asked.

"Ehh," she shrugged. "It was all right. Listen, I need to collect wood from the forest for making amulets, and I figure you must know your way around..."

"Of course I'll go with you. That's what you're asking, isn't it?" he said.

"This Saturday, then?" She said, smiling. "If you're not too busy."

He smiled warmly, "I think I can fit it in," he replied, "especially after you've already given up two of your Saturdays to help me."

Vincent's response arrived later that day. After going on at length about how limited the paper's archives were, how reluctant the older employees would be to talk to him, how dangerous it would be to try and get them to talk, why she should just move on with her life, and warning her repeatedly not to get her hopes up, he said that he would see what he could dig up. He signed his note with the same little fox doodle that he always used and then added, "P.S. When are you going to meet me for a drink? You can't make the excuse that it's too far, like you did when you were in Egypt."

Clio's hastily scribbled reply consisted of, "Thanks! You're the best. I promise to get together with you for a friendly drink over the Christmas holidays. P.S. Professor Snape says to make the puzzle harder. If you stump him I will buy you dinner."

Clio paid attention whenever she saw Snape with the paper after that, but if he found the puzzle any more difficult he gave no indication.


	9. In the Underworld

By that Saturday afternoon, which was sunny and dry for a change, Remus looked well again. He led her to an older section of the forest where there was plenty of windfall. They walked for a while without speaking, the only sound coming from the scuffling of their boots in the dry leaves, and the occasional rough caw of a raven. It was a comfortable silence, filled with the implicit understanding that they were there together, breathing the same crisp air and feeling the same thin, wintry sunlight on their faces. Clio would occasionally pause beneath this tree or that, sorting through the fallen branches for ones of the right thickness for cutting amulets.

Though there were many in the forest that were unfamiliar to her, she could recognize all the trees she was looking for by sight. She pointed out distinguishing bark and leaf patterns to Remus, and if he wasn't actually interested in runemaking or the associated tree lore, then at least he was very good at pretending to be.

"I know a good length of wood when I see it," Clio joked as she bagged an oak branch.

"And you say that herbology was your worst subject?" he said, smiling, twirling a blackthorn twig between his fingers.

"Identifying a tree isn't the same as growing one." She knelt next to an aged ash tree, sifting through the leaf litter at it's base until she found a suitable branch.

"Which one is that?" he asked.

"Ash," she said, "One should never pass up a nice piece of ash."

He smiled, shaking his head. She tucked the branch in her bag and stood up, brushing the earth from her hands against her thighs, and continued walking.

"Harry wants me to teach him how to fend off the dementors," he said eventually, as they walked through an area shaded by evergreens.

"You're going to do it, right?"

"Yes," he said, ponderously. "After the holidays."

"That's great!" She said, smiling. "Are you going to teach him the patronus charm?"

"That's my hope, although, it will be a bit of a challenge since I won't be able to demonstrate it," he said, frowning.

"Why not?"

"Well, I guess I could. Then I'd just have to explain to him why my patronus takes the form of a werewolf," he answered wryly.

"I see how that could be problematic. Well, you don't really need to demonstrate it, right?"

"It's a difficult charm for someone so young, I just hope it's not too difficult for him."

She considered this for a moment. "I think as long as he's properly motivated he could do it. Fear is probably better motivation than wanting to pass a test or impress your friends."

Remus looked at her intensely for a moment. "I hear you cast a powerful patronus," he said.

"Really? Who from?" she said, her cheeks coloring slightly.

"Professors Flitwick and McGonagall."

"That was kind of them," she said.

"Perhaps … do you want to help teach him?" he asked.

"Me? Oh no, he doesn't even know me," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just some creepy old witch that follows him around the halls."

"Neither 'creepy' nor 'old' are adjectives that can be applied to you," he chided.

"Still, he wants to learn from you. He only asked you, right?"

"Yes, yes he did," he admitted.

"He knows, then, about you and his father?"

"Not everything," he replied cautiously. "He knows that we were friends."

"Well, see, he needs a father figure in his life," she said.

"I'm no father figure, far from it," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, a kindly uncle, then," she said, smiling at him. After a moment he smiled back at her. They walked out from the shadows and the sun caught her hair, setting it aflame. The silence that stretched out between them as his eyes flickered over her felt suddenly oppressive. Clio wanted desperately to kiss him or to at least reach out and grasp his hand. She did neither, worried that moving too quickly might simply scare him away. Winning his trust was not unlike winning over a hungry but fearful stray.

They passed once again into shadow, and their conversation continued.

"Now I just need to find a substitute for the dementor," Remus said.

"Hmm, I see where that could be tricky."

"I've been thinking of finding another boggart."

"Oh. Well, I'll let you know if I find any more wobbling closets," she said, smiling ruefully. He paused for a few moments, then worded his next statement very carefully.

"I couldn't help wondering about your boggart, afterward."

"Oh," she said, suddenly very interested in a birch tree, even though she already had plenty of birch branches. "It's something that happened a long time ago. Something I saw when I was little. I don't really like to talk about it."

He nodded, longing to take her in his arms and tell her it was okay, whatever it was. "I understand," was all he said.

"I used to see my grandfather's death," she said then, looking at him once more.

"You saw him die?" He whispered.

She nodded.

"How did you riddikulus it?"

"I pictured him alive, and laughing," she answered.

"That's wise," he said softly, walking on. "I can't think of a better way to remember the loved ones we've lost."

The sun was dipping behind the trees to the west by then, and they turned back toward the castle.

"Did you get all the wood you need?" he asked.

"Enough for now," she answered. "I don't know about you, but a drink on a cozy chair by a warm fireplace before dinner would be perfect."

He cleared his throat after an awkward pause, "I may have some mead in my office, would you care to join me?"

"I'd love to," she said, practically skipping.

They settled into the pair of chairs in his office, and he showed her the proper way to mull and serve the mead. Even though the dementors had barely scrutinized them as they passed through the school grounds, he insisted on her eating some chocolate along with the drink. She brought out her music box, which played a mix of Merlin's Beard and Band of Centaurs as they chatted, pretending not to notice that every single song that played was about love, or sex, or love and sex.

When the clock on the wall announced that it was dinnertime, and they stood up to depart for the great hall, Clio made her move.

"Thanks for the drink," she said. He froze in place like a spooked animal as she leaned toward him. She changed course at the last moment, directing her kiss to the corner of his mouth, rather than dead on. He stiffened at her touch, and when Clio backed away she thought she saw him quivering slightly.

"I forgot something I need to do," he said, "I'll see you down there?"

"Yeah, see you," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and trying not to look disappointed.

Clio was used to receiving the occasional bit of mail from her far flung friends and family members, but one frosty mid-November morning she was surprised by a note from Henry that was postmarked out of London.

"Holy shit, Henry's here!" she said, her eyes zipping back and forth over his neat scrawl. "Not here, here, but in the UK. He's making custom instruments for a couple of the Weird Sisters and he's meeting them in Edinburgh."

"Shut up!" Charity exclaimed, snatching the letter from her so that she could read it herself.

"Do you want to come meet them?" Clio asked.

"When? Charity demanded, eyes still flying over the parchment, "Oh, this Friday." She looked crestfallen. "I have a date."

"Oh," Clio had forgotten Charity had met another guy the previous Saturday, while she'd been walking in the woods with Remus. "You could bring him along, too."

"No, that might be a little weird," Charity said. "You know who you should bring?"

"Maybe," Clio murmured, calculating the lunar phase in her head and wondering how best to bring it up with him, since he'd been avoiding her ever since she tried to kiss him. She pulled a quill and bit of paper from her pocket and scratched out a reply, stroking the tawny barn owl on the back of his rounded head as she did. She broke up a piece of bacon and fed it to him in bits (this was one of the very few situations in which she would even touch meat) and then attached the reply to his leg. "Go have a rest in the owlry before heading out," she said. He hooted and took off.

In the end, she decided to try the direct approach with Remus: walking over to his office after classes that day and knocking. He met her just inside the door, body stiff and face guarded, but gray eyes betraying the warmth that she knew lay underneath.

"Hey," she said, "Have you ever been to Edinburgh?"

"Yes," he answered cautiously.

"I need to go there on Friday night to meet a friend, come with me."

"Need? Is this friend in trouble?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"No, I just haven't seen him in a long time," she said, watching his eyes and registering the slight twinge when she said "him," before continuing. "He's one of my friends from Salem. I think you'd like each other, and I'd like you to come with me."

His eyes widened. "I don't know," he said.

"Come on," she said, "I endured a grindylow bite for you."

He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "You won't let me forget about that so easily, will you?"

"Not if I can use it. It's got a bit of mileage left, I think" she said, mouth quirking into its half smile, heart beating like mad.

He sighed, "How are we getting there? Can you apparate that far?"

"Of course," she said, smiling broadly, now.

It was at dinner that night that Charity announced the annual staff Christmas gift exchange, and commanded that everyone write their name on a slip of paper and toss it into a tin.

"Absolutely no cheating is allowed. I've put a charm on the tin that will make you break out in a most uncomfortable rash if you try to put the first name you draw back and pick another," she said.

"What, no sorting hat?" Clio joked as the tin made it's way to her. Professor McGonagall looked appalled at her suggestion.

"Godric Gryffindor's hat is only to be used for serious occasions," she said.

Clio tossed her name into the tin, hoping that she would draw Hagrid, or Remus, or Charity, or anyone other than Snape.

"Please don't let it be Snape, the only person who would be worse than Snape would be Professor Trelawney," she thought. So, of course, the name she drew was Sybill Trelawney.

After wracking her brain for what to get her and coming up empty, Clio decided to make her an amulet. She had more than enough wood than what she would need for her classes, and could get some stones and cord from Hogsmeade and stay well under budget.

She found everything she needed at Dervish and Banges the next day. Spying a diverse selection of wand quality wood, she picked out a few things to make the present for Remus that had taken shape in her head while she was trying to think of something for Trelawney. She also stopped at Gladrags to get the adorable hat that she had heard Charity fawning over on two separate occasions.

The week drug on interminably, but when Friday finally arrived, Clio met it with a mix of nerves as well as anticipation. She was most worried that Remus would back out, and only slightly less worried that he would go but not enjoy himself.

Much like the day when she'd helped him with the Kappa, he appeared surprised when she showed up at his door.

"Hey," she said, when he just stood there in his doorway, looking her up and down. "Are you ready to go."

"Where are we going, exactly?" He asked warily.

"It's a seedy rock club in Edinburgh called Underworld," she said, anxiously. "I guess it's a favorite of the Weird Sisters."

He nodded slowly as he reached for his cloak. Something stopped him though, and he turned back toward her, "Clio, before we go … we need to talk."

Clio heard herself say, "Okay;" knowing that nothing good ever came out of a conversation that began that way.

"Forgive me if I'm presuming too much, but it seems clear to me that you're interested in being more than friends."

Her heart stopped beating for a moment. "That's correct," she responded, once it had started again.

He studied her with his pale gray eyes. "Why me? You're an attractive girl, you shouldn't have to settle for … for someone like me."

Clio shook her head, "I'm not settling. _You're_ attractive. And smart, and nice." She looked at him steadily, and for the moment he was speechless.

"What about you, what do you want?" she asked.

"I've grown accustomed to not having what I want," he answered softly.

"Well, I'm here, if you want me," she said.

Remus gazed at her, heart pounding, eyes flickering back and forth from her eyes to her mouth before blinking, then backing away, flustered. "This is moving too quickly for me," he said.

Clio took a deep breath, and stepped back herself. "I understand. I invited you out tonight as a friend. We're going to meet up with another of my friends. That's all."

"I'm not saying I'm not interested," he said, looking anguished.

"I know," she said, turning her head so he couldn't see that she was close to tears.

He watched her, opened his mouth to say something else, then changed his mind and picked up his cloak, instead. "I'm ready to go when you are," he said softly.

She nodded toward the floor. They didn't speak to one another during their walk through the castle and grounds. Clio pulled a scrap of paper from a pocket and held it out to him as they walked through the gate.

"Here's the address," she said.

The dementors peered down at them from the wall, and they drew closer together almost unconsciously. Remus looked at the address and nodded, then reached into a pocket for a bar of chocolate, gesturing for her to keep moving. He broke off a chunk for each of them as they walked. Clio ate hers without really tasting it. He stopped once they'd passed out of the dementors' influence.  
>"Why don't we apparate together," he said. "That way we're sure to not get separated."<p>

"Okay," she said blankly, holding out her arm. After the briefest of hesitations he linked his arm with hers and held her hand. She met his eyes as she felt the heat wave roll through her belly and up her chest to her throat. He must sense something, too, she thought, feeling his hand tremble in hers. Then she was sucked through a straw, and falling through utterly empty space. The concrete jumped up to meet her feet. She blinked a few times and looked around to get her bearings.

"It's right across the street," Remus said, pointing to a nondescript sign that would have passed unnoticed if they hadn't been looking for it. As they started to cross, she realized that they were still holding hands. She wondered if he realized this, too. His had was warm, and large enough to envelop hers. They were halfway across the street before he released his grip. "Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay," she answered, already missing the warmth.

The club inhabited an ancient stone stable adjacent to an even more ancient cemetary. A imposing man who was almost as large as Hagrid guarded the front door. He gave them only a cursory glance before nodding them on through a massive door of solid oak, and into a cavernous room with rough-hewn stone walls. Light was provided by small clusters of candles on each table and a huge old chandelier hanging from the ceiling far above.

A polished mahogany bar with at least 100 different taps occupied most of the wall to their right. A young band billing themselves as The Istari occupied the stage along the wall directly ahead. Clio would describe their sound as generic rock with a twist of blah. She thought that Remus might say that it was not his cup of tea, and that Snape would dismiss it as pure crap. She tuned them out.

In between the door and the stage was a maze of mismatched tables and booths, every single one packed with a diverse crowd of magical folk. Witches and wizards who looked barely of legal age mingled at tables just yards away from witches and wizards who made Dumbledore look spry. Clio spotted hags, banshees, vampires, goblins and even a centaur in the crowd. Dress styles included familiar British robes and cloaks, muggle garb, kimonos, tunics, togas, kaftans and hijabs. The crowd seemed oblivious to the band, but she supposed that was better than booing them off-stage, or even worse, hurling jinxes.

"I like this place already," Clio said, as a well-chiseled couple clad in matching leather loin clothes, vests and boots strutted by. Her mouth quirked up in its first genuine smile since the discussion in Remus' office. The weight on his heart eased a little, he'd hated to see her disappointed. "Although, spotting Henry might not be as easy as I thought it would be."

"What does he look like?" Remus asked, scanning the crowd.

"Like a big teddy bear," she said. "He's black, a couple inches shorter than you, a little on the round side, and will probably be carrying a lyre."

Remus smiled, "Turn around," he said.

She turned and saw Henry waving to them from the far end of the bar, a frosty beer glass by his hand and his lyre propped up on the seat next to him. Clio squealed and ran to embrace her oldest wizarding friend. As usual he was impeccably dressed in deep purple and gray Jedi robes and smelled of sandalwood. She felt him laugh as he hugged her. His deep brown eyes looked over her shoulder, sweeping over Remus, who hung behind.

"Henry Orfeu, Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin, Henry Orfeu," Clio said, gesturing to the two of them in turn, smiling nervously, eyes glowing. Henry stood up to shake hands, then picked up his glass in one hand and his lyre in the other.

"They've got a private table for us in the back," he said, nodding toward a darkened archway near a booth full of vampires. Clio followed him through the crowd, Remus staying close behind. He nodded toward the band on stage as they passed closer by. "Keep an ear out for those guys," he said.

"Really?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"You don't like them?"

"Meh."

He shook his head. "They're American. I was talking to them earlier about doing some recordings together."

Clio was distracted by a pair of gruff, grizzled men who she caught eyeing them closely over their beers as they passed by their table. They seemed most interested in Remus, their backs stiffening and eyes narrowing at him. Clio looked back at him, and saw him acknowledge the two strangers with a barely perceptible nod. They stared at him for a moment, then nodded back. Remus read the question in her eyes and leaned forward to whisper into her ear, "Werewolves."

"How can you tell?"

"Sixth sense," he replied with a shrug.

They passed out of the main room through a dim corridor and up a narrow flight of stairs to a smaller room with just a few tables and its own bar. The entire energy of the room was centered around the three young wizards holding court at the long table opposite the bar. All three were dressed in artfully distressed black robes. Clio recognized Kirley Duke, the devastatingly handsome lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters, right away by his unruly black locks and piercing blue eyes. The other two (one brunet and extremely hairy, the other blonde and only moderately hairy) she wasn't sure about. Duke was surrounded by a bevy of giggling young men and women, and half a dozen pitchers in various stages of emptiness littered the table.

"Henry!" The hairy brunet called out. "We wondered if you had abandoned us. Are these your friends?" he asked, his glance brushing over Clio and Remus.

"Yes," Henry said, then introduced them as, "Clio Callimachus, my muse, and her friend Remus Lupin." The brunet turned out to be bassist Donaghan Tremlett and the blond was lutist Herman Wintringham. The three musicians laughed as they leaned forward to shake Clio's hand.

"Seriously, her presence increases the music ability of everyone in the room," Henry said matter-of-factly.

"He's exaggerating," Clio interjected.

"Not by much," he insisted.

"Is that why she's here tonight?" asked Duke.

"No, she's also good company," Henry stated, taking a sip of beer.

"Henry doesn't need my help, which you'll see as soon as he plays his lyre for you," Clio said.

"Playing is one thing, we're going to be parting with quite a bit of money to have him build us instruments," Tremeltt said, all business.

"Who do you think built that lyre?" Clio said with her slyest smile.

"Well, let's get some drinks for these people," Duke said, clapping his hands. A waitress appeared instantly at his side. "Get these folks whatever they like," he said to her, gesturing toward them with a flourish of his hands. "It's all going on our tab."

Remus looked at Clio who looked at Henry, who nodded.

"I'll have whatever local wheat ale you recommend," Clio said.

"Mulled mead for me," said Remus. The waitress nodded and their drinks appeared immediately on her tray.

"So, are you a musician, too, then?" Duke asked Clio, his eyes flitting from her to Remus.

"No, I'm actually a teacher," she said, laughing. "We're both teachers at Hogwarts," she continued, gesturing to Remus.

"Get out," he said, looking back and forth between the two of them. "You didn't go to Hogwarts," he said pointing to Clio, then pointed to Remus, "What about you?"

"Class of '78."

"What House?"

"Gryffindor."

"Ahh, Hufflepuff '89," he said. "Donaghan the Ravenclaw graduated in '90 and Herman over there just vacated Hufflepuff House in the spring."

"'89, that's the same year you graduated from Salem, isn't it Clio?" Remus asked.

"Yep," she said.

"So what do you teach?" Duke asked Remus.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Let's hear you play, then," Tremlett asked, nodding to the lyre, which Henry had rested on a seat of its own. "I'd like to know whether it sounds as lovely as it looks."

"Donny, Donny, Donny," interrupted Duke, "We haven't even eaten yet. Let's get our priorities straight, here." He clapped again for the waitress, whose fake smile didn't quite cover her irritation at his method of summoning her. She tossed a few menus on the table from the restaurant next door. "Tell me what you'd like and I'll order it for you."

Clio scanned the entire list, looking for something that she could eat. She heard the Sisters ordering various permutations of steak and fish, and when her turn came up fell back on her favorite staple, "Chips," she said.

Then it was Remus' turn. "Ribeye, very rare."

"Okay," the waitress, said, then vanished with a loud crack.  
>"I wouldn't say that you're <em>not<em> a musician," Henry said to her. "You were getting too good to never play again."

"Clio, do you play an instrument?" Remus asked, taking a sip of his mead and looking at Clio curiously as she frowned into her beer.  
>"She played a few instruments at school," Henry elaborated. "And she can sing."<p>

"Yes, I've heard her sing," Remus said with a sly smile.

"Oh, that party doesn't count," Clio said, going red.

"I thought you were quite good," Remus said lightly. "What did you play?"

"Flute, piano and guitar," Henry said.

"I'm sitting right here, I can talk for myself," Clio snapped.

The waitress returned with another sharp crack and laid plate after plate on the table. Remus' steak was still bloody. Clio tried to ignore the way he tore into it as she went to work on her large mound of chips.

"Now that's how a real man eats his steak," Duke said, pointing his fork at Remus. Remus smiled politely and shifted uncomfortably in his seat .

"Sorry, didn't get a chance to warn you. Kirley's in amorous mode tonight," Tremlett whispered.

Remus took another bite of steak, and watched Clio eat a few more chips as he chewed thoughtfully.

"Do you still play?" he asked.

"No," Clio said, staring at her plate. His silence told her that he was waiting for her to expand on her answer. "I used a school guitar, and I just never got around to buying my own."

"Well, technically you did," said Henry.

"Is it still at the shop, then?" Clio asked, concentrating on the chip she held.

"Yeah. A few people have asked to try it out, but it won't play for them. It will only play for me, and even then rather reluctantly."

Clio nodded, putting the chip in her mouth and chewing it slowly. Remus glanced at her, concerned, then looked to Henry for an explanation.

"Why wouldn't it play?" asked Tremlett, interest piqued.

"It's a magic instrument, made from wand-quality wood to my specifications," Clio said. She took a sip of beer and then made Henry's sales pitch for him. "These aren't ordinary guitars that you're buying. They're essentially extensions of your wands. When you pick them up for the first time they're going to respond to you in the same way that your wands do."

Tremlett and Wintringham exchanged a look, and Clio knew that they were sold.

Henry wiped his mouth and hands and pushed his empty plate aside. "Now for the live demonstration," he said. He picked up his teardrop-shaped lyre and held it out for their inspection. "My wand is made from pear, just the like the body and yoke. The bridge and arm are cherry."

The strings shivered at his touch. He turned the instrument around to show them a long thin notch on the backside of the yoke. He took out his wand and slid it into the notch. The lyre and wand clung to each other like long separated lovers. Henry stroked the strings, murmuring, "Modulatio tangite," and the pegs holding the strings turned themselves, not stopping until Henry nodded that he was satisfied. Without any fanfare, he began to play. His fingers danced effortlessly over the strings, and his lyre sang.

Clio leaned over to Remus, who watched with rapt attention, and whispered, "Watch how the crowd reacts." He understand what she meant as soon as Henry's rich velvet baritone joined the lyre, floating over and under and sometimes melding with it's chorus of voices. Heads turned along the entire length of the table. The waitress had stopped wiping up spills and pulled up a chair, her forgotten bar rag wiping the same spot over and over again.

By the time he finished his song, most of the young women and several of the young men who'd previously been clustered around Duke had assembled around Henry. Even Duke had forgotten all about Remus, and gazed lustfully at Henry, now.

Clio smiled at Remus. "He's like my brother, so I'm immune."

"So let's talk about design," Tremlett said.

Henry set aside his lyre, took another sip of beer, and then reached into his robes for a quill and parchment. "What have you got in mind?"

"I want something really unique. It's going to be black of course, but the shape needs to be special. I was thinking of something like a bat wing."

"Interesting," said Henry, starting to sketch with the quill. "Do you want to see bones in the wing, like it's three-dimensional? Or just a flat wing shape?"

Tremlett exchanged a wide-eyed look of glee with Wintringham. "Three-dimensional."

Henry sketched for a moment longer, then pushed the parchment toward him. "What about something like this?"

"Marvelous, can you make it pointier though? And the headstock should look wingish, too."

"Give it a claw!" Clio butted in. The three of them turned to her. "You know, that little thumb thing at the top of the bat wing, give the headstock a little hooked claw."

Henry nodded and revised his sketch. Tremlett nodded his approval.

"What type of wood is your wand?" Henry asked, pulling a measuring tape and calipers from his robes. "I'll need to measure it, too. And what type of strings do you want?"

"Walnut," he answered pulling his wand from a pocket. "What type of strings do you offer?" he asked, laying his wand on the table.

"Unicorn hair, dragon heartstring and flitterbloom vine are what I recommend," Henry said, measuring the wand's length and the circumference at several points. "My own lyre is strung with unicorn hair." His eyes slid towards Clio as he continued, "Flitterbloom is favored by animal rights advocates." Clio looked quickly away.

"Unicorn hair, then, to match my wand," he said.

"Excellent choice," Henry murmured, finishing his notes and turning to Wintringham. "How about your lute?"

"Okay, the ribs are going to be black, but the face is going to be white..." he began. Clio's attention was diverted by a soft touch on her arm. She turned to Remus, his eyes glimmering even in the dim light.

"Why is your guitar still in the shop?" He asked gently.

"I ordered it last spring. Then ... some family stuff came up and I didn't have the money to pay for it. Henry had already started on it, and offered to do the work on his own time, but his boss was furious. The materials are expensive."

Remus opened his mouth to ask another question, then shut it again. He shook his head, "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's just a guitar," she said.

"It's yet another reason why I'm seeking my own clients. I can't wait to quit and open my own shop," said Henry. He recorded the measurements for Wintringham's wand, then moved on to Duke.

"Okay," Duke said, "I'm envisioning a guitar with three necks. One six-string, one twelve-string and..."

"You've never mentioned money problems," Remus said quietly, resisting the urge to take her hand in his.

She shrugged, "It never came up, and I didn't want to burden anyone with it."

"I can empathize with you, believe me."

"Everything should be fine in a few months."

The waitress, who'd been hovering near Henry since he began singing, shook herself and asked if their empty glasses needed refilling. Clio nodded. After a few sips she excused herself and left in search of the ladies' room.

Remus turned to Henry, who was filling in his notes on the Sisters' instruments.

"So how much does an instrument like this cost?"

Henry paused, looking up at him. "Clio's is a straightforward design, so the materials are the most expensive part. My boss is insisting on 137 galleons. She's already put 20 percent down, so that leaves 110."

Remus nodded, grimacing.

"She didn't mention this, but she forfeits her deposit it if she doesn't pay in full by the end of the year," Henry said with a frown. "It'll be sold at auction for whatever the asshole can get for it."

Remus stared into his drink, running calculations through his head. "I'd buy it for her, but my own financial situation is … complicated."

"You're not married, are you?" Henry asked.

Remus looked up, eyes wide. "No. Why would you ask me that? We're not even-"

Henry laughed it off. "Forget it. You said 'complicated,' and I'm just looking out for my friend."

Remus sighed, looking thoughtful again. "I could cover half of it, now."

"I'm sure if I ask a few of our other friends to pitch in I could come up with the other half," Henry said. "She needs a hobby to distract her from obsessing over her grandfather."

Remus looked at him, eyes glimmering. "Do we have an agreement, then?"

"We do," Henry said, offering his hand. They shook on it, Henry slipping him a card with payment instructions on it just before Clio returned to the table.

"Hey, what did I miss?" she asked. "Why are you smiling?"

"If these instruments turn out as awesome as I think they will, then I'm quitting," Henry said.

"Gentlemen, and lady," Duke interjected, "I believe a celebratory round of firewhiskey is in order." He winked at Henry as he handed him a glass.

Clio had gone through two pints and two shots of firewhiskey by the time they left. She was walking fairly straight, but tripped over an uneven floorboard and would have gone face down if Remus hadn't caught her arm and steadied her. He maintained his hold on her even after they had made it outside, and insisted on her walking for a few blocks to clear her head before apparating back to Hogsmeade.

"Thanks for coming with me," she said, clinging to his arm, beyond caring about anything beyond his warmth and solidity. "What did you think of Henry?"

"He's a good friend," he answered.

"He's my oldest wizard friend. We met at the Chicago train station, on our way to Salem. I had a couple of muggle friends, but there weren't any other wizards where I grew up. He taught me how to play exploding snap, and out of the bazillion games that we played by the time we reached the schooI maybe managed to beat him a couple of times."  
>"Really?" Remus looked at her curiously. "I met my first friends on the train to Hogwarts. I was stuck in a car, trying to read, with several other very rowdy boys. James and Sirius were the rowdiest of the bunch. Lily was in that car too, and actually walked out because they were too loud. I didn't expect to talk to them ever again, but then we were all sorted into Gryffindor."<p>

She smiled, "And that was it? The rest is history, as they say?"

"Well, there's a bit more to it. It was Lily who actually befriended me first. She was … everyone liked Lily. I might have had a schoolboy crush on her until James asked her out," he stammered.

"Oh, she was one of those girls," Clio said, smiling bitterly.

He flushed. "Oh, I didn't mean-"

"No, I'm definitely more of cult classic than a best seller."  
>"I think you would have been friends, if you could have known each other."<p>

She nodded absentmindedly.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready?"

"To disapparate. I think we should go together, again."

"Right, yeah." Clio leaned into him more than she had on the way there, and he didn't protest. They didn't drop arms until they'd made it well past the dementors at the gate, and then only because Remus needed to reach into his pocket to get the chocolate. They walked up the stairs together and, without thinking about what he was doing, Remus walked with her all the way to the fifth floor.

She turned to him hopefully at her door. He gazed into her smoldering eyes, felt himself beginning to melt, and backed away before he could do anything foolish.

"Clio," he began, but struggled with what to say next. "I haven't had a real relationship in a long time. I don't know the right way to go about it."  
>She smiled, stunned at his words, "Neither do I. I don't think anyone does."<p>

"I really do like you as more than a friend. Please be patient with me, that's all I ask," he said.

"Okay," she said, waiting hopefully. When he made no move towards her she sighed, "Good night, then?"

"Good night."


	10. Hold You In My Arms

With end of term grading piling up, Clio found herself constantly neglecting the amulet she'd started for Sybill Trelawney. As the days ticked by and the winter holidays grew closer she thought about it less and less. She always found a little time each day to work on her gift for Remus, however, even when it meant working late at night.

She'd settled into an almost zen-like calm since they'd returned from Edinburgh. At least, she felt at peace while she worked on his present. That calm evaporated any time she thought of her classes, family's financial woes, the stalled research into her grandfather's murder or her guitar, gathering dust in a shop window in Chicago.

Their interactions remained warm, if restrained, right up until he disappeared at the full moon. He kept his distance for a few days afterwards, and she was struck by the thought that this must be part of his regular cycle. She waited patiently for him to emerge from his malaise.

The day of the staff Christmas arrived, and Clio still hadn't finished the amulet for Professor Trelawney. She woke up early that morning to work on it, but got sidetracked when Nox went chasing after Trevor the toad again. She lost an entire hour to tackling the dog, convincing her to give up the toad, and then returning him to the Gryffindor common room. Sun-drenched and decorated in rich, warm reds, this room was the polar opposite of Slytherin's. Several pajama-clad students had gathered around a game of cards by the fireplace. They turned in alarm as she stepped through the portrait hole, hiding the game behind their backs.

"You can all relax," she said. "I'm just here to return an errant toad."

Granger was also up, studying, and recognized Trevor as soon as Clio held him out.

"Thank you, Professor Calli, I'll see that Neville gets him."

Her squashed-faced ginger cat curled itself around Clio's legs, and she bent to pet him for a moment. He recoiled from the smell of Nox on her hands, but at least didn't hiss.

"Thanks, Hermione," she said, heading back to the portrait hole. "Have a good Christmas, if I don't see you again before the train leaves."

"Oh, I'm actually staying here for Christmas. Will you be here?"

"No, I'm going to visit my grandmother. Hey, I heard from Hagrid that you're helping him with Buckbeak's trial?"

Hermione flushed. "Err, yes I am. Trying to anyway."

"Well, good luck with it. Let me know if you need anything. Even if it's just books. There are ways to get around some of the lending restrictions," she whispered. The girl smiled, exposing her buck teeth. It was a shame that her parents wouldn't simply fix them; if you ignored them she could be very pretty.

"Thanks," she said.

At breakfast, all Charity talked about was walking to Hogsmeade to do Christmas shopping for her family. When Clio confessed that she still had Professor Trelawney's amulet to work on, Charity had an easy solution.

"Just buy her a bottle of sherry and call it a day."

"I would if I didn't think that would rightfully earn Professor McGonagall's scorn."

"Okay, then buy her a kids' tarot card set. That would make Minerva's day."

Clio laughed. "Just give me two hours after breakfast to finish it." After that, she would go to Hogsmeade whether she had finished or not.

In the end it only took her an hour and a half. She'd already crafted rune-marked ash beads to represent Sybill's astrological sign and profession, staining half of them ebony and the other half honey gold. Now, she arranged the beads in a pattern and combined them with beads of polished amber and onyx, then strung the whole thing on cotton cord. She repeated incantations for peace, inspiration and clarity of mind over the necklace, and wrapped it in layers of white, black and gold tissue paper. After she'd tagged it and left it under the tree in the staffroom, Clio couldn't stop herself from peering at some of the other tags, looking for her own gift.

"Snooping, are we?" sneered a cold voice behind her. She hastily dropped the package she had just been hefting. Snape was standing just inside the door, a thick rectangular package in his hands.

"Just looking. Don't see mine, yet."

"Hmm."

"That's not it, is it?"

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," he said, sweeping past her.  
>She checked that the door was closed before stepping closer and saying, "I checked out those names-"<p>

"Are you an idiot, or did you not understand me before?" he hissed.

"That's why I'm not telling you that I did not find anything uninteresting."

"Stop. Not another word."

She sighed, "I have more questions."

"Not for me."

"What do you want in return?"

"Nothing from you."

"Then why even help me at all?"

He glowered at her for a moment before answering silkily, "Because, however tangentially, our interests are aligned."

"Seriously, what do you want?"

He glowered at her for a moment, then a cruel smile curled his upper lip, "Since you're so keen on Lupin, you could tell me how he's helping Sirius Black."

Her eyes narrowed, "Give me a break. You can't possibly believe that."

"You believe he's a 'tame' werewolf?" he said.

"I believe he's a good person," Clio spat. She felt her wand heating up against her hip, and fought to control it. "He told me about that prank, by the way, the one he wasn't in on."

"He told you that, and you believe him?"

"Of course I believe him."

"You're as naïve as you look, then," he said, glancing down at her wand as he glided past her toward the door. "You need to learn to control that better," he added, "before your boggart gains company."

Clio stood frozen even after he'd slipped through the door. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, thinking of a green glassy sea until her temper had cooled again.

She didn't mention her encounter with Snape to Charity when they met in her office a few minutes later. They bundled up and walked to town amid a boisterous swarm of students. Like many in the crowd, Honeydukes was their first stop. Charity pointed out the sign on the door to warn villagers that dementors would be patrolling the street. They both cringed.

"We should probably get some extra chocolate for ourselves," Clio said.

"Extra dark, none of that white chocolate shit," Charity muttered.

"Indeed," Clio said.

They stocked up on fudge for their families and chocolate bars for themselves (for strictly medicinal purposes, of course), then walked down the street to Gladrags. Clio picked out purple house-neutral Hogwarts hoodies for her sister and niece.

"Aww, that hat I liked is gone," Charity pouted. "I was actually going to get it this time if it was still there."

"I wouldn't give up on it yet. I have a good feeling about that hat," Clio said.

"Did you get my name in the gift exchange?" Charity asked, eagerly.

"No," Clio answered innocently.

Their next stop was Zonko's to shop for Clio's nephew. She spied the Weasley twins there, carefully counting out their money and making judicious selections from a very long shopping list. She asked them what she should get a 10-year old, and they filled her arms with so much stuff that she had to abandon half of it so as not to make her niece jealous.

She knew from experience that it was almost impossible to please her Nan, and decided to just pick up a well-aged bottle of Scottish whisky in Glasgow while she was picking up the rest of her family from the airport the next day.

Their last stop in Hogsmeade was the Three Broomsticks, where they had a drink and discovered that they'd both gotten each other gifts. Clio sheepishly presented Charity with her hat, and Charity presented Clio with a flask inscribed with the rune for "bliss."

"It even comes pre-filled with firewhiskey."

"Thanks, I may need it to get through the gift exchange."

"Oh, there'll be egg nog for that," Charity said slyly.

After dinner that night, they all gathered in the staffroom, which Flitwick had decked out in fragrant evergreen garlands. The elves had produced brandy pudding, sherry trifle, and a large punch bowl full of egg nog, which Hagrid spiked liberally with brandy. Dumbledore was running late, as he'd been dining with Minister Fudge, and sent word with Professor McGonagall to start without him. Clio noticed Snape scowl at this, and wondered if his gift had been for the Headmaster. Charity sat by the tree to distribute the variously sized and colored packages. Clio sat nearby, pointedly ignoring Snape.

She opened a sloppily-wrapped package from Hagrid to find a red and gold striped hat and scarf, and a pair of furry mittens shaped like lion's paws that flipped up to reveal fingerless gloves. Delighted, she put the hat on her head, wound the scarf around her neck, and stuck her hands into the mittens. Charity took a picture of her snarling and pawing the air.

She watched, on tenterhooks, as Professor Trewlawney opened her present and held up the amulet. The amber and onyx beads flashed in the firelight.

Professor Trelawney gaped at it through her Coke bottle lenses, apparently not sure what to make of it, "Oh it's … it's very … nice," she said, wrapping it back up and setting it on her lap.

Clio caught Remus' eye across the room and shrugged. He smiled back, warmly, and she felt the warmth spread through her belly.

Charity received a large box of her favorite all-dark chocolates from Remus. "Thank you Remus, if my ass gets any bigger this winter it will be because of you," she said.

"I'll drink to that!" said Hagrid, taking a swig of eggnog from his new jug-sized stein, courtesy of Aurora.

Remus sniffed curiously at the gauzy package he'd received from Professor Trelawney, stifling a sneeze, before opening it carefully to reveal several extremely fragrant candles that Clio could smell from several feet away. She watched, slightly fascinated and slightly horrified as the divination instructor floated up to him and began explaining the applications for each candle. He listened politely, eyes first glazing over, then popping open in alarm when she began running her hand lightly up his arm.

"This one is very sensual-" Trelawney said, interrupted only when Charity spit egg nog all over the floor. Clio clapped one lion-paw mitten over her mouth to keep herself from cursing. She watched, temperature rising, as the bug-like woman latched herself to Remus' arm.

"This is only the first part of my gift, I'd be delighted to do a private crystal gazing for you," she said. Clio's eyes narrowed. It was silly of her to be jealous of Sibyll Trelawney, she knew, but found herself grinding her teeth and clenching her hands into fists, anyway.

She felt like she was being watched, and turned to see Snape staring at her, dark eyes cold and unreadable, as usual. She rolled her eyes at him, then looked back to where Remus had been just a moment before. He was gone, and Professor Trelawney was now talking to Professor Vector.

"Looks like someone's been hitting the sherry extra hard," Charity muttered to her, still laughing. Clio nodded and walked hurriedly over to the egg nog. She needed something to take the edge off. She found Remus nearby, scratching miserably at his neck.

"Hey," Clio said, sidling up next to him.

"Hey," he said. "Do me a favor, will you?" he said, handing the entire lot of candles to her. "Get rid of these for me, discreetly if possible. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I'm almost positive I'm allergic to them."

"Of course," she said, sending them to the compost heap with the same spell that she used for Nox's droppings. "I have something for you that I'm almost positive will not irritate your skin," she said, patting at a concealed pocket in her robe. His eyes widened. "I didn't really want to give it to you in front of everyone, though," she continued.

"I have something for you, too," he said coyly.

"Really?" Her stomach lifted up towards her mouth.

"It's upstairs in my office. Do you want to go up and open them now?"

"Okay," she said. She followed him out of the staff room, Charity smiling slyly at her as they left, and Snape glaring from the corner.

Once in his office, he flicked his wand at a map on the wall, and it rolled up, revealing an arched doorway through which she could make out his private chamber. He nodded his head toward the open doorway.

"In here," he said. He followed her into his private room. There was a fireplace opposite the door with a loveseat and ottoman. His bed was tucked away in a recessed alcove. The walls, carpet and furnishings were done all in dark, rich earth tones. The overall impression it gave was of a warm cozy den. She sat on one side of the loveseat while he prepared two glasses of mead. He handed her one and then sat down on the other end of the seat, fidgeting nervously.

"Okay, who's going first?" she asked.

"You go first," he said. She reached into her pocket and drew out a heavy round package wrapped in green and gold paper.

"It's home-made, and I hope you like it. I won't be offended if you don't, though."

"I'm sure I will, even if it's half as well-made as Professor Trelawney's amulet," As soon as he touched the paper, it began to dissolve, leaving behind a deceptively delicate-looking globe about the size of an orange. It was constructed of twisted copper wire and cypress wood stained the same shade as his wand, then decorated with tiny aquamarines and scrolled with elaborate rune patterns. The fine detail of the craftwork made the amulet look crude by comparison.

A slow smile spread over his face as he turned it over, taking in the details. "Clio, this is amazing. How long did you spend on it?"

She shrugged, he didn't need to know that she'd missed many hours of sleep in order to perfect it. "It's a music box, like the one I have. There's only a few songs in it right now, but I'll show you how to add more. The copper will change color over time, as it ages."

"Thank you."

"Do you like it?"

"I do. Can I play it now?"

"Of course." She showed him where to tap it with his wand to set it spinning in the air. The first song it played was one by Band of Centaurs that they'd listened to by his fireplace before. It was a love song.

"Here," he stood up and crossed the room to a closet, withdrawing a large package that was suspiciously guitar-shaped.

"Oh my god," she said. He passed it to her, and she felt his fingers tremble slightly when they met hers. She balanced it on her lap and carefully tore the paper off. It was the one Henry had designed for her; she could tell as soon as she touched it. Honey-stained beech to match her wand. Six flitterbloom strings, with pegs to expand up to twelve, if she wished.

"Remus!" she gasped, "When did you arrange this?"

"Last month, that same night we met him in Edinburgh. Do you like it?"

"I love it! I just … it's too much," she protested.

"I want you to have it," he said, smiling gently.

"I'll pay you back," she said.

"It's a gift," Remus insisted. "Your friends pitched in. All I had to do was arrange shipping," he fibbed.

She looked at him suspiciously, but he just changed the subject. "Aren't you going to try it out?" he asked.

She plucked idly at the strings. "It's been years since I played. It's going to take awhile to re-learn everything," she said. She fitted her wand into the notch on the neck; it fit perfectly. The strings tuned themselves without her having to touch the pegs. Once they were done she placed her fingers in one of the few chord positions that she remembered and gave it a strum. The sound was dark and resonant, and perfectly tuned. She looked at him, face flushed and eyes smoldering, as she laid the guitar gently on the ottoman.

His eyes shone like they would melt. She leaned forward, and this time he didn't stiffen or back away. She slid her arms around his shoulders and suddenly he was wrapping around her and his lips met hers. The kiss lasted just a few seconds, but afterward it was as if a wall had crashed down and they kissed again. Short, sweet kisses gradually merged into long, passionate ones.

Eventually they drew apart, and gazed at each other for a long moment.

"I can't believe this is happening," he said at last.

She smiled slyly. "I've been wanting this to happen for the past two months."

"That's my fault. I'm afraid I'm not very adept with these kinds of social interactions," he said, eyes downcast.

"Hey, it's all right. I'm glad it's happening, now," she said, then kissed him again, and again.


	11. Unspeakable

Clio was up very early the next morning. For breakfast she stole a muffin from the kitchen and made herself a thermos of coffee. When she left the castle (bag slung over one shoulder and guitar over the other, broom handle clasped in one hand, snow crunching under her boots, Nox trotting at her heels) the sun had barely risen above the level of the trees. She walked just past the winged boars before disappearing with a thunderous crack.

Her grandmother was already awake when she arrived at her doorstep, drinking tea in the kitchen and talking to Sooty, her favorite cat. Clio didn't have time to do much more than hug her hello and drop her bag in her favorite guest room, the one on the upper level with a window seat looking out toward the lake. Sooty fled to Gran's room, and Nox stayed close to Gran, who began spoiling her with treats as soon as Clio went to the garage to fire up the Aston Martin.

It had been her grandfather's car, and looked just as pristine now as it had when he'd bought in the early 1960s. A few modifications had been made to it, of course. It didn't run on gasoline, and it disguised itself as a broken down mid-80s Ford Escort whenever it was parked outside of the garage. What should have been a two-hour drive to Glasgow International was made in one.

The plane her sister and the kids were trapped on was late, so Clio apparated out to Ulster Square to do some shopping. She had time to wander the snow-dusted, dementor-free streets for a bit, buy her grandmother's whisky, eat a real breakfast at her favorite 24-hour diner and still apparate back in time to greet them as they stepped off the plane. Slipping past security was never an issue.

Although five years separated them, Clio and Calliope looked remarkably close in age. That was where the resemblance ended. Clio stood three inches taller and displayed many more of the Mediterranean genes inherited from their grandfather, while Calliope took after their father and grandmother. 10-year old Ian and 8-year old Ramona looked remarkably like their mother with their blue eyes, light chestnut hair and round pink faces. She hugged them all and led them to the car. Everything about Scotland was new and fascinating for them, and they listened to her stories with rapt attention for the entire drive home.

Gran warmed lunch for them when they arrived, and allowed them to eat as soon as they had hauled their bags up to their respective rooms and washed their hands and faces. Calliope shared with Clio so the kids could each have a room to themselves.

It wasn't until they were eating that Calliope mentioned the guitar, sitting in a chair of it's own in a corner of the kitchen.

"That's really pretty," she said.

"Thanks."

"I don't recall seeing that when you were here over the summer," Gran said. She frowned as she inspected it.

"I just got it," Clio said. "Early Christmas present." She lifted it onto her lap and began strumming the chords she knew.

"Why do you put your wand in it?" Ian asked.

"The magic in the wand amplifies the magic in the guitar, so it becomes an extension of the wand."

"I noticed you still walk around with that thing swinging from your waist." Gran said, referring to the way Clio wore her wand on her belt. "American wizards, walking around like gunslingers with their wands out all the time," she muttered, clearing the dishes from the table with a little more force than necessary.

"Jedis, Gran. Not gunslingers. It's handy," said Clio.  
>"I find it vulgar," Gran insisted. "Around here, only Death Eaters brandish their wands so boldly. What do your colleagues at Hogwarts, think?"<p>

Clio sighed deeply, "I don't brandish it, Gran. It's usually covered by a robe or a cloak and no one at Hogwarts cares," she said. "Our wands are out half the time anyway because of the dementors."

"I want a belt like that," Ian said.

"You can get one when you get a wand," said Calliope.

"Me too," said Ramona.

"I'll make you both belts when you get your wands."

Their Gran sat down with a fresh cup of tea, and continued to grumble.

"So where'd you get the guitar?" Calliope asked.

"Henry made it. You remember Henry."

"Is he the black one?" Gran asked.

"Yes Gran, he's African American," Clio said with another sigh.

Calliope nodded, "Did you pay for it, or was it a gift?"

"Both. I paid for part of it and the rest was a gift," Clio said. Calliope raised her eyebrows. "But not from Henry," she added.

"Who from?" Calliope was intrigued, now.

"A friend at Hogwarts," Clio said, pretending that the guitar needed to be tuned.

"A friend?"

"Yep," she said, strumming idly.

"I want to hear more about this friend," Calliope said, "Later," nodding her head towards the kids.

"Me too," said Gran, "How come I haven't heard about him?"

"Because there hasn't been anything to hear," Clio said, strumming one last chord and setting the guitar down. "And how do you know this friend is a 'him'?" Ian and Ramona looked at each other and giggled.

"You wouldn't be so obtuse, otherwise," groused Gran.

Clio ended up having to sketch out a few of the basics for them later that night. She didn't mention anything about Remus being a werewolf, and felt conflicted about her motivations for keeping it a secret. She wanted to believe that she hid this hairy little detail out of respect for his privacy, but (while she suspected her niece and nephew would think it was really cool) she knew that her grandmother would not approve and that Calliope might not, either. She didn't want to hear all the reasons why dating a werewolf may not be a good idea.

She hated thinking all of these thoughts, and clung desperately to the justification that it was none of their business. She sent him a letter by owl that didn't say much more than that she'd arrived and picked her family up from the airport okay, that she would probably come back to school morbidly obese after eating so much of her grandmother's brandy pudding.  
>She and her sister had a long talk in their room that night about their parents, as well.<p>

"So how are they really doing?" Clio asked. "Dad always says that everything's fine in his letters."

Calliope sighed, "They get to keep the house, but dad still can't get a job. Mom's … mom. She won't take the herbs I prepare for her. Dad's tried disguising it as tea, but there's no way to disguise the taste."

"He should just imperius her."

"Clio!"

"Oh come on, you know you've thought about it."

"Yeah, I have." She looked out the window at the softly falling moonlit snow for a moment. "How much of your pay are you sending home?"

"Two-thirds."

"I wish I could help out. I just can't with the kids."

"It's okay, really. I don't pay food or rent, so I'm still making out all right."

"How much are you saving?"

"A little. I'll be fine."

"'I'll be fine.' You're just like dad."

Clio wrinkled her nose, "I will be fine." She stared out the window at the moon, just a sliver away from full. "I miss you guys. I wish you could come live here."

"That's not going to happen. Not with their dad."

"How long does the custody order last?"

"Until they're 18."

"Couldn't you appeal it?"

"To do that I'd have to pay for a lawyer. Plus, as much as I hate him, the kids do want to see their dad."

"Meh."

"You don't remember how we moved to the States, do you?"

"Yeah, I do. We flew. Right after the funeral."

"Right, but do you remember that it was just us and mom?"

"Well yeah, because dad had legal stuff to take care of, and he was planning to join us later."

Calliope contemplated the snow again before answering, "That's what they've always said, but-"

"But what, that's not how it really happened?"

"We left in a hurry, remember, it was real early in the morning?"

Clio wracked her brain. She'd been only four, then. She remembered boarding the plane, but everything before that was hazy, "I don't remember the details that well."

"It was still dark. We only took a couple of bags with us, because mom didn't want anyone to know that we were going. Of course, she didn't realize that, duh, of course dad would be able to find us."

"'Pe? Are you saying that she kidnapped us? Why didn't dad come right away, then?"

"He did. He just didn't fly on a plane."

Clio snorted, "What, he flew on his broom?"

Calliope nodded.

Clio's eyes widened, "You're serious?"

"Didn't you ever wonder how he got frostbite on his fingers?"

"He said it was from playing quidditch in subzero weather," Clio said, frowning. To her, it had seemed like her father had always had gray fingertips.

"It was from flying over Greenland without gloves."

"Shit. When did you find this out?"

"Just a few weeks ago. I thought it would be better to tell you in person."

"Fuck. So, why'd they stay together, just for us? Why are they still together, then?"

"They do love each other. They're just … weird. I bet mom saw his frozen fingers and fell in love with him all over again."

"Why'd she leave in the first place? Was she just that freaked out about Grandpa?"

"Well, yeah. You remember how freaked out she was about Uncle Roger, right?" Calliope winced when she said the name, at the painful memories it recalled.

"Yeah." They were silent for a few moments. "Speaking of that, I saw a boggart at school, and guess what form it took."

"Really? That's horrible," Calliope looked like she might vomit.

"Remus saw it, and this other asshole I work with, Snape."

"Did they say anything?"

Clio hemmed and hawed, "Remus asked about it, and I just said it was something I saw when I was little, and he hasn't asked about it since. Snape, it's kind of eerie, but I think he knows that I had something to do with the fire."

"It's okay to talk about it with other people. It will make you feel better to get it out there. It would probably help with the boggart, too."

"Yeah, maybe I will tell Remus about it. Snape," she made a face. "He's the last person in the world I would ever want to share that with."

They spent the next few days sledding down the hill behind the cottage and ice skating on the river. Ian and Ramona took turns flying her broom, chased by a wildly barking Nox. A lump came to Clio's throat any time she remembered that this was the same hill she used to watch Domino lope across. She could close her eyes and see him darting over and through the tall grass burnt gold by the summer sun. They all drove to Glasgow for a day of shopping in the middle of the week. In addition to picking up some Muggle music and magazines for Charity, Clio picked up a bottle of mead for Remus and the latest _Sandman_ comic for herself. Evenings were spent drinking hot chocolate and singing by the fire, where Clio struggled to learn enough chords to accompany them for a few Christmas carols. Her sister's clear soprano covered many of the sins in her guitar strumming.

Clio was anxious to get back to school once the rare time with her family came to an end. She hugged them fiercely at the airport, then drove to the city center to meet Vincent. The pub he'd chosen was the complete opposite of Underworld. It was fresh and tidy-looking, well-lit and occupied by a largely homogeneous crowd of young professionals. They ordered a bottle of wine and a couple of appetizers to nosh on.

She'd met him hen they were both students at the Runic Archives, and didn't call him Vincent the Fox for nothing. His clever wit, delicate facial features, silky chestnut hair and dreamy hazel eyes combined to make him quite the ladykiller.

Apart from one drunken hookup that they'd mutually agreed to never mention again, their relationship had remained strictly platonic. They were the same height, and with his light build Clio had always wondered whether she might actually weigh slightly more than him. This was huge a turn off for her. Meanwhile, her throaty laugh, deep voice and penchant for aging jeans were all turn offs for him.

It was their mutual affection for the study of ancient runes that had brought them together, and that ultimately drove their friendship on. Clio tested it a bit by pressing him for information about the Death Eaters.

"There's not much I can tell you that you don't already know," he insisted for the second time.

"Come on, you lived through it."

"Oh, I can tell you plenty about how fucked up everything was. How my mother was scared to let us leave the house. How we used to hide in a cabinet whenever she caught wind that You-Know-Who was out and about."

"Voldemort. Dumbledore insists that we refer to him by name."

"Easy for him to say, it's not like he's going to come knocking on _his_ door."

"He's not the bogeyman. It's not like he's just going pop out of the mirror if you say his name too many times."

"Ridiculous, I know; but hear it, and imagine it enough times and you begin to believe it."

"So what have you heard about Crouch, Jr. and Rookwood?"

"Other than they both worked for the Ministry, both are murderers and both are in Azkaban now, they have virtually nothing in common." He paused for a sip of wine before continuing. "You know, you may have better luck going to the Ministry itself. Talk to some of your grandfather's colleagues if any are still there. What department did he work in?"

Clio frowned. "I don't even know. Gran's never talked about it. Dad always said he was a scholar, that he studied ancient magic. Is there a department for that?"

Vincent's eyes widened. "Ancient magic? Not to my knowledge. If he was really studying something though … You really have no idea what he did?"

Clio shook her head.

He finished off his last few sips of wine in one gulp, then refilled his glass, topping hers off as well.

"Sounds to me like he worked in the Department of Mysteries," he said softly. "They study all manner of ancient subjects there. Time, space, love, death, even."

She giggled, "Did you say time and space? Why am I teaching runes when I could be building a TARDIS?"

"Rookwood worked in the Department of Mysteries. He was an Unspeakable."

"A what?"

"An Unspeakable. Their studies are top secret. They aren't allowed to speak about what they're working on. To anyone. Not their families, even." He looked at her pointedly.

Clio was dumbfounded. "Why is it so secretive?"

He shrugged. "Because it's dangerous. Messing around with time, exploring space … death."

Clio sipped her wine and pondered his words for a while. "If my grandfather was an Unspeakable, would the Ministry even tell me if I asked?"

"Probably not."

Her shoulders sagged.

"You should ask your Gran. If he were to slip and tell anyone anything, it would be her … or his mistress, if he had one on the side."

"Vincent!"

"Kidding," he said, throwing up his hands and flashing his most disarming smile.

She sighed. "Hey, change of subject. Have you heard of any secret societies that fought against Voldemort?"

"Not really. Well, I've heard rumors, but that's it."

"What did you hear?"

"Just that it existed. The Potters were supposedly members. And the Longbottoms."

"Longbottoms? Like Neville Longbottom?"

"That's their son. His parents are permanent residents of St. Mungo's now, in the looney ward. Crouch's work, and the LeStranges."

"LeStrange? I've heard of them."

Vincent leaned forward conspiratorially, "There were also rumors going around Hogwarts in my day that Professor Snape had been a spy."

Her mouth quirked up in its half smile, "Yes, I've heard that, and also that he was a Death Eater."

"Oh yeah, those rumors circulated as well, though no one was ever able to get a look at his arm to prove it," he said, shaking his head. "Supposedly it was only Dumbledore's word that kept him out of Azkaban. There are those who've wondered just whose side he was really spying for, of course."

"Hmm." Clio sat back and sipped her wine as she thought of him clinging to Dumbledore's side at the beginning of term party and at the quidditch match, and waiting sullenly for him at the Christmas party. "Snape loves Dumbledore," she concluded. "He's his only friend."

Vincent laughed. "How is the old buzzard? Has he been stumped, yet? I've been inserting little digs at him into the rune puzzles, has he noticed?"

"He hasn't said anything, but I'll let you know if he seems especially surly some day."

He laughed again. "Good luck."

After hearing about the Unspeakables, Clio was anxious to get back to her grandmother's to ask her. She tried to formulate the right question to ask as she drove. Phrasing it the wrong way or asking it in the wrong tone of voice would surely result in disaster.

Nox was curled at her grandmother's feet when she walked into the kitchen. Gran was reading the paper and nursing a glass of whisky.

"Hey, Gran," she said, sitting down in the chair opposite her.

"Did everything go okay at the airport?"

"Yep."

"Where'd you go afterward?"

"How do you know I went anywhere?"

Gran pointed to her packed bag and broom, leaning by the door. "You're obviously anxious to get back to your friend at Hogwarts, so you wouldn't have been dilly-dallying at the airport. So you must have had somewhere else to go."

"You're scary, you know that? I met another friend of mine for a drink."

"Does your Hogwarts friend know about this other friend?"

"It's not like that Gran, Vincent's just a friend-friend. Like Henry."

"You have too many male friends."

"I'm a man's woman, Gran, I hate other women and they hate me," she muttered. "That's a joke," she added, when her grandmother glared at her over the paper. "I have female friends at Hogwarts, too. You'd like Charity, I should bring her by some time."

"Please do. This Remus fellow, too. I don't like all this secretive stuff."

"Of course." It was the slimmest of openings, but Clio decided to take it. "Speaking of secretive, Gran, do you know, I just realized the other day that I don't even know what department Grandpa worked in at the Ministry."

She lowered the paper, her face going pale. "What?"

Clio winced, knowing she had messed up. "I was just wondering. Someone mentioned the Department of Mysteries the other day, which I'd never even heard of, and I thought it would be cool if Grandpa had studied time, or space..." Her voice trailed off.

Gran stared at her hard, mouth pinching into a tight line. "Why on earth would you ask me about that?"

Clio tried to smooth things over. "I was just wondering. I wanted to know more about him, that's all."

"Your grandfather was the man who told you stories and sang you to sleep at night. He was the man who taught you to speak Greek and shot off fireworks on your birthdays. That's who he was, not what he did at the Ministry!"

"Gran, I didn't mean to make you upset."

"I'm not upset."

"I'm sorry," Clio said.

"Just go, already," Gran said, tossing the paper down and taking her whisky to the other side of the kitchen. Nox sat up, wondering what the commotion was for.

She had originally planned to return the next morning, but Clio knew her grandmother would never have told her to go if she didn't mean it. She hastily slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her broom, guitar and Nox; and dashed outside. She was blinking back tears when she appeared just outside the school gates. The dementors swarmed her immediately, but Domino's tail had barely emerged from her wand before they scattered. She let him bound through the gates ahead of her, and on up to the castle. She imagined him charging up the stairs to Remus' office and finding Remus sitting by the fire, his face lighting up with one of his rare, warm smiles.

She jogged the whole way up to the castle, letting the cold air dry her tears, and was breathing hard by the time she pounded up the stairs to his office. She forgot until the last moment that Nox might not be so happy to see him, and swept the dog under one arm as she strode up to his door. She was just lifting her fist to knock when it opened a crack.

"Clio?"

Nox growled, the fur on her back standing at attention. He opened the door a little wider, just enough for her to see his face. He looked tired and drawn, as if he had not been sleeping or eating well for the past week.

"Hi, sorry, I forgot I had Nox with me," she gasped, clapping her free hand over the dog's muzzle.

"I wasn't expecting to see you tonight," he said running a hand over his scruffy cheeks and through his disheveled hair. His eyes looked distant, and Clio wondered whether surprising him a day early was such a good idea.

"I know. I got into a row with my grandmother and then, I just ... I missed you and I couldn't stand it anymore." He smiled wanly when she said this. "Do you mind if I take Nox upstairs and come back down?"

"No, of course not," he said, eying the agitated dog thoughtfully. "This could be a bit of a problem."

"It's something to work on," she said, trying to sound optimistic.

"I'll be right here when you get back," he murmured.

She ran upstairs and pushed the still growling dog, broom, bag, and guitar inside her room. She checked her face in the bathroom mirror to make sure that she didn't look like she'd been crying, then trotted back down the stairs to the second floor.

Remus was sitting by the fire when she returned, looking slightly better-groomed. He'd already poured drinks for both of them. She startled him by practically jumping into his lap to deliver a hug and kiss. He grunted under her sudden weight.

"Sorry," she said, shifting off of him. "Are you all right?"

"It's not your fault. The transition back and forth is painful."

"It still hurts, now?" she asked, horrified.

"Not as much, but some," he said, trying to smile.

"What is it like?"

He hesitated before answering. "Imagine having all four limbs dislocated and then relocated."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize," she said guiltily. Her fingers brushed, feather-like, over his face, cupping his chin and lifting it to her mouth for a long, tender kiss.

"Yes, well, the mead helps," he said roughly when she finally released his lips.

"That reminds me," she said, pulling a bottle from her cloak, "Here, I got this for you." He took the mead from her, managing to smile this time.

"You didn't have to, but thank you."

She sat next to him on the loveseat, coaxing him to lean his weight on her, cradling his back and shoulders against her chest, and folding her arms around him.

"Is this okay?" He nodded in response. She leaned her head against his, careful not to put any weight on it, stroking his thinning hair with the hand that wasn't holding her drink. They sat that way for a long while.

"I'm sorry, I don't have much energy this evening," he murmured.

"That's okay," she whispered back. "You're sure Snape's not putting anything in the wolfsbane to make you feel worse?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "No, I don't think he's that vindictive. The main side effect is nausea, a small price to pay."

Presently, she felt his breathing slow, and his head drooped, resting heavily against hers. She finished her drink, and a few minutes later stood to go. She took his glass from him and set it on a side table, then woke him with a kiss.

"Goodnight," she said. "See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, eyes barely cracking open. "I may skip breakfast. Dinner, perhaps."


	12. That Teenage Feeling

Clio had just sat down to dinner when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and over her shoulder, smiling at Remus. He was clean-shaven and a little of the color had returned to his face.

"You're looking chipper," she said.

"I have an assignment I could use your help with," he said.

"Okay," she said.

He leaned down to whisper into her ear. "I need to find another boggart by Thursday. I know you don't want to confront it. But if you can help me scour all the good hiding places in the castle then I'll take care of the dirty work."

"When do we start?"

"Do you have time tonight?"

"I still have some grading to do, but I can get that done in an hour or so."

"Can I meet you at your office at 8:00, then?"

"Sure." He walked back to his seat, smiling, Clio smiling after him.

"What was that all about?" Charity, who had just arrived back that afternoon, asked. Clio turned to her friend, still smiling. "Oh my god! It happened?"

"I, uh, yeah," she said, flushing. "I have to show you the guitar he gave me."

"He got you a guitar?" she asked, too loud.

"Shhh."

"Holy shit Clio," Charity lowered her voice. "Did you sleep together, yet?"

"I'm not talking about this here."

"After dinner, then."

Clio sighed. "I have essays to grade. Come up to my office and we'll talk there."

She ended up spilling a few details as she tore furiously through the stack of essays from the third-years. As usual, Hermione Granger's was twice as long as everyone else's. Pearl Jam, which Charity had taken a liking to, played on a slightly modified CD player that Charity had cleared through the Ministry bureaucracy for "educational use."

"Is he a good kisser?" Charity asked. She was stretched out on the rug (Nox stretched out next to her) flipping through one of the Muggle magazines Clio had brought back with her from Glasgow.

"Yes," Clio said. She sat at her desk, quill scribbling comments over page after page of parchment.

"That's it? 'Yes?' You're not going to give me any other details?" Charity made a face.

"What details do you want?"

"Does he use a lot of tongue? What does he do with his hands?"

"Why do you want to know all that?" she asked.

"I tell you all about my dates," she said, pouting.

"You like to talk about your dates; I don't."

"But why not? That makes me think there's a problem."

"There's no problem. If I have a problem I'll let you know."

Remus knocked on her door then, and Clio was only halfway through the essays. "Come in!" she called, stacking the parchment into two piles. Charity pulled herself up into a sitting position, beaming knowingly at him as he walked in the door. Nox growled, flashing her sharp little teeth. Clio sent her sliding backward into her bedroom.

"Hi Charity," Remus said as the wall closed just in front of Nox's snarling face, "We can do this later if now isn't a good time," he said to Clio.

"I was just leaving," Charity said.

"I'm at a good stopping point, here," Clio said. "Granger's essay has drained my brainpower for the evening."

Remus laughed, "She is the brightest of the third-years, isn't she?"

"She's at 200% in Muggle Studies right now," Charity added.

"She actually included footnotes with her essay, that's why it's so long," said Clio, holding it up.

"Who even reads those?" Charity said, walking out into the hallway.

"Nerds like me," Clio said, smiling. "See you later."

"Happy boggart hunting," Charity said with a sly wink as she walked away.

"She knows," Remus said quietly, looking troubled.

"Of course she knows. She's been pestering me about you for ages." He looked stricken. "Don't worry. She can keep a secret, if that's what you want," Clio said.

His eyes widened. "I thought _you_ would want to keep it secret."

She shrugged, "I'm not even sure yet what 'it' is, honestly."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I guess I'm not sure either. I know I like you, very much."

"We can figure things out as we go."

He nodded earnestly. "I don't want any harm to come to you, on my account."

She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, "I should hope not."

His grip tightened around her hand. "Then you should know that it's better, for your sake, to keep things quiet."

Her smile faded, "Professionally, yeah, it's better to keep things low key, especially around the students. But, personally, if someone asks I see no reason to lie. Are you okay with that?"

He looked at her, hard eyed, for a moment before softening, "Yes, I guess that will do," he said. She leaned forward and kissed him, then backed away, pulling him playfully toward the door.

"Come on, let's go," she said.

They searched the castle high and low for a boggart. He told her stories as they wandered the dim corridors. Some related pranks that he got up to with James and Sirius, others were pranks that they'd pulled on their own and then told him about later. Remus knew every nook and cranny of the school, including all of the dark, secretive places where a phantom might like to hide. These places also made ideal trysting sites, and sometimes when they came up empty-handed their amorous feelings wound up getting the better of them. After two hours of scouring the castle, their lips were raw, and they still hadn't found a boggart.

He walked her back to her office, and would have left her just outside the door if she hadn't pulled a dog biscuit from her pocket.

"If you want Nox to get comfortable around you, this is the way." She handed him the treat.

"I just have to give her this?" he asked.

"She thinks with her stomach. How do you think I got her to follow me home when I found her?"

He nodded, "I've never had a dog before. I had a … friend with a dog, once."

"It's okay. I'm going to open the door. You just hold the cookie out, and don't move." Clio opened her office door with the password, and a moment later the inner chamber door slid open. Nothing happened for a moment, then they heard toenails clicking on the floor. Nox poked her head through the opening between the bedroom and the office. She stopped and stared at Remus, growling. He did just as Clio asked, hunkering down to get closer to the dog's level and holding the biscuit out with the tips of his fingers, not moving, not talking and barely breathing.

"Nox, come here, girl," Clio called softly. The dog stopped growling long enough to take two steps forward, licking her chops. Then she growled again.

"Nox," Clio said in a gently scolding tone. "Quit being a bitch." The dog stopped growling, but folded her ears against her head. She eyed the cookie, but was reluctant to come any closer. Remus still hadn't moved. Clio rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Come on Nox." Clio could tell the food was wearing the dog's resistance down. She continued to eye it as if she was trying to figure out how to get it without coming any closer. She stepped forward once, twice. She was barely two steps from the end of the cookie, now. She stretched her neck out, nostrils flaring. Clio ran her hand along Remus' shoulder, feeling the tension there. His eyes were almost level with the dog's questing nose, and he held his breath. Finally, Nox took the final two fearful steps forward, grabbed the biscuit in her teeth, and retreated with it to the other side of Clio's desk.

Remus stared at his empty fingers for a moment before standing up. They could hear the cookie crunching between the dog's jaws. Clio threw her arms around his neck and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"That's a start," he said, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Are you up for Boggart hunting again, tomorrow night?"

"Sure. Same time?"

They spent the next evening much the same as the first, and the one after that, as well. It was easy for her to banish thoughts of Death Eaters and Unspeakables from her mind. They began and ended each evening with cookies for Nox, who was gradually being won over. It was on the fourth night that they finally found a boggart.

They'd been down to the dungeons and come across the Bloody Baron but nothing else. Clio was pretty sure they'd exhausted every room in the castle, and expressed her frustration.

"Not that I'm complaining about how we've been spending our time, but are you sure I'm actually helping and not just slowing you down?"

"Of course you're helping. I would have liked to have found one by now, too, but there are still several places we haven't checked. I confess, I've been saving some, like the broom closet nearest the potions classroom, as a last resort. We've also still got Mr. Filch's office, the quidditch locker rooms and the boathouse to check."

Filch's office turned out to be their last stop. He was out when they arrived, and the room appeared dark and silent.  
>"Isn't it locked?" Clio said, as Remus reached for the door handle.<p>

"It is," he said, smiling impishly, as the lock clicked open with a subtle wave of his wand. He opened the door a crack and, smiling slyly, gestured for her to enter. She hesitated only a moment before slipping inside. After taking a quick glance up and down the hallway, he slipped in after her and closed the door behind them.

"We passed Filch on his rounds through the dungeons about 10 minutes ago. It takes him approximately an hour to complete one circuit around the castle, and the dungeons are near the beginning of his route, which gives us almost 40 minutes before he returns this way again."

"So, none of the stories you've been telling me were made up, is that what you're saying?" she said.  
>He caught her with a kiss before lighting his wand and bounding over to one of the many floor to ceiling filing cabinets that filled the room.<p>

"Stored within these cabinets are boxes and boxes filled with the evidence of our extra-curricular activities," he said, scanning the cabinets until he found the one he was looking for.

"Here we go," he said, pulling open a drawer and thumbing through the boxes of dusty cards within. His eyes lit up as he relived the details.

"Take a look at these," he said, passing her a handful of the yellowed cards. Clio thought he looked a bit sad, and thought it must be painful to reminisce about deceased friends, even thirteen years later. She read the cards aloud by her own wand light, while he commenced tapping on the sides of the cabinets, one by one.

"Detention for unauthorized removal of juvenile mandrakes from the greenhouse, and subsequent relocation to the Slytherin common room," she read, "How'd you get them in there?"

"Someone may have used a tickling jinx to coax the password from a younger Slytherin student," he said mildly.

"No wonder Gryffindors aren't welcome there," she mumbled, still smiling. "Stealing wine and food from the kitchen, in the middle of the night, detention again … this one's in Professor McGonagall's handwriting."

"It was for a post-quidditch match celebration, as I recall. She was very angry at being summoned to the kitchen in her dressing gown."

"Underage drinking, shame on you," she said, smiling as she shook her head.

"Keep reading," he said, tapping a cabinet on the other side of the room.

"Let's see, detention from Bathsheda Babbling for setting a dungbomb off in-" she stopped reading abruptly. "Oh come on. Seriously, the ancient runes classroom? That was you?"

"I had no idea it would linger on for so long," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, even though he was hiding behind a cabinet at the moment.

"Who's Bathsheda Babbling?"

"Your predecessor. Not nearly so charming as you, by the way. I would have had an easier time paying attention in class with you as a teacher."

"Yeah right." She looked at the date on the card. "You do realize I was five at the time? We could have read 'Babbity Rabbity' together, and then you could check my closet for boggarts before tucking me in at night."

He laughed softly, walking back into view.

"Here's another detention," she said, returning to the card in her hand, "for using the levacorpus charm against another student in the halls. That hardly seems worthy of a detention. We did that all the time at Salem."

"Really? It was very popular here, for a time. Fads like that come and go."

"I guess it took a while for it to reach the States. We used to have upside-down duels."

"Upside-down dueling?" He looked impressed. "Okay, now that's a new one."

"I know I have some pictures in one of my albums..."

He suddenly turned his head, listening to a soft noise in another part of the room. Clio stopped talking and turned her head in the same direction, listening for whatever it was he'd heard. There was nothing at first, then she thought she caught a dry scuffing sound.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered. She nodded.

"It's coming from one of these cabinets," he continued. They both listened in silence for the sound to happen again. After a few moments they heard a rattle coming from the depths of a cabinet in the very back corner of the room. He walked toward it cautiously, and beckoned for her to follow. She crossed the room to his side, using his body to shield herself from it.

"Don't be frightened," he whispered. "Here's what we'll do, I'll stand here," and with that he moved to stand directly in front of the cabinet, "and you stand off to the side, there." he pointed to a spot several feet away. She nodded again.

"On the count of three, I want you to open the cabinet. If it's a boggart, then I'll confront it and wrestle it back into the drawer."

"Then what?"

"Then, I'll wait here with it while you run back to my office and fetch a case to carry it in. There's one all ready sitting on my desk."

"Okay," she said. "What if it's not a boggart?"

"Then we'll have to improvise. I'm fairly confident it's a boggart though. Ready?"

Clio stepped as far to the side as she could and still have a clear view of the cabinet. "Ready."

"One, two, three."

Clio opened the cabinet with a flick of her wand. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the full moon emerged from the drawer. Almost instantly, Remus turned it into a cockroach that fell back into the drawer, which Clio closed with a snap.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked her.

"No," she said, realizing then that she was shaking. "I'll go get the case, then." She turned toward the door, and was halfway out before turning back. "How do I get in to your office? Is there a password?"

"Grindylow," he murmured.

"Got it," she smiled, then turned and hurried out. Fetching the packing case from his desk was uneventful, but she narrowly missed a head-on collision with Snape as she was barreling back down the stairs, the wooden case held in front of her like a battering ram. He was running up, head down and eyes obscured by his curtains of hair. She slowed, but her downward momentum would have carried her right in to him if he hadn't looked up at the last moment and veered from his path.  
>"Watch where you're going," he demanded with a scowl.<p>

"Why don't you watch?" she called out over her shoulder, speeding up again. She burst in to Filch's office to find Remus searching through another of the file cabinets, muttering under his breath. His attention was focused on the contents of the cabinet he was leafing through.

"It's not here," he muttered.

"What's not?" she asked.

He looked up then, looking almost as if he'd forgotten she was coming back, and had been caught.

"Nothing, really. Just another file I was going to show you," he stared broodingly at the cabinet as he spoke.

She nodded, not sure that she believed him. "Where do you want this?" she asked, brandishing the wooden packing case. He looked up at her again, seeming to really see her for the first time since she'd returned.

"We'll set it here," he said, opening it on Filch's desk. "Now, I'm going to have you open the cabinet again, and this time when it comes at me I'll force it into the packing case." She nodded, feeling anxiety tie her gut into familiar knots.

This time, the boggart emerged as the flaming man, wavering for a moment before turning and making straight for her. She tried to back away, but her back was already up against the wall and so she froze.

"Clio! It senses your fear." Remus jumped in front of her, forcing the boggart into the form of a silvery sphere, and then into a cockroach that was easily tossed into the case. Clio crept out from behind him after he'd latched it tight.

"I'm sorry," she said, face red with shame. "I freeze up whenever I see it."

"How did you ever pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT if you can't even face a boggart?" asked a silky voice from the doorway. Both of their heads swiveled around to see Snape, who was leaning in the door, smirking. Now her humiliation was complete.

"I don't seem to recall you being so eager to face your boggart, either, Severus," Remus said mildly, picking up the case with one hand and killing the lights. "Clio at least has been willing to help me catch one."

He opened the door wide, gesturing for Clio to exit ahead of him. Snape backed up to make way for her.

"She does make excellent bait," he said coldly.

She glared at him as she passed, hating the smug little smile on his lips and wanting to slap some kind of emotion into his dead eyes.

"I should have known he'd be lurking about," Clio muttered as they walked away, "I almost ran him over coming down the stairs."

"He likes to keep a close tab on me, I'm afraid," Remus said. He continued smiling at her, smiles that she felt she didn't deserve, as they made their way back upstairs to his office, the boggart struggling inside it's case the whole way.

Clio rolled her eyes, "Yeah, that reminds me of something he said right before Christmas."

His face went a bit ashen, "What was that?"

"It's so stupid that I forgot about it until now, but he seems to think that you might have helped Sirius Black break into the castle."

"Oh, yes, that," he said, frowning. "Despite my many shortcomings – and there are many – you must believe me when I say that I would never help a mass murderer break into Hogwarts, or into any other place where Harry or anyone else were living."

"Of course I believe you, and everyone has their shortcomings." She sighed, "Snape is right about one thing; I should be able to handle a boggart." She wasn't sure which felt worse; shame over her boggart or having to admit that Snape was right about something.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," he said.

She tutted softly, face going red again, "I have nothing but admiration for you. Your boggart must be at least as embarrassing as mine, and yet you're able to face it in front of the students."

He didn't say anything more until they'd reached his office. "Care to join me for a nightcap?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, still feeling a bit depressed.

He slid the boggart-filled case into the dark space under his desk. "He should like it under there," he said. The fire was already lit in the next room. He led her to the loveseat, stopping to regard her for a long moment, his pale gray eyes full of concern. She returned his gaze, wondering what he was reading in her face. He turned abruptly to pour them both glasses of mead. Unable to contain her curiosity for long, Clio got up to inspect a few of the photographs lining the bookshelf on the opposite wall.

"Those are my grandparents," Remus said, looking over her shoulder as he handed her a glass.

"They were muggles?" she asked, observing that the sepia-toned figures didn't move.

"Yes, my father was muggle-born. Do you want to play something?" he asked, holding up the music box.

She nodded, one half of her mouth sliding up in a smile. He gave the globe a spin and it began to play Django Reinhardt. He motioned her to sit down, and joined her with his drink.

She laughed, "So you added this from memory?"

"Yes, I remember listening to this on their phonograph. Do you like it?"

"I do. It reminds me I need to practice. I can play two whole songs and parts of three others."

"That's a start."

"Do you remember your grandparents?" she asked.

"A little. They died when I was still young."

She nodded, then murmured, "I barely remember my grandfather." The fingers on her left hand fidgeted with the black ring on her right. She held it up so that he could get a better look at it. "This was my his ring. He gave it to me before he died and I haven't taken it off, since. It's the one thing I'm superstitious about."

He gazed at it for a moment, trying to decipher the runes inscribed on it's reflective surface. "Is that stone?" he asked.

She nodded. "Obsidian. It says, 'agape,' Greek for unconditional love." She fell silent.

"Something's bothering you," he said.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing … is it your grandfather's murder?"  
>"No. Well, yes, that bothers me too. But mostly … it's my … the boggart," she said, looking down at her hands.<p>

He stared thoughtfully into the fire for a moment. "I'm going to have to hold on to it for awhile, so Harry can work on his patronus. When I'm done with it, if you want, we could work on your ridikkulus charm."

"I don't want to waste all of your free time," she said, thinking that he only knew half of the issue and not having the strength to fill him in on the rest.

He shook his head, "I don't consider any of the time I spend with you to be wasted."

"I'll think about it. I need time to think of something to turn it in to," she said, still looking down.

"Take all the time you need," he said, stroking her hands with his.

She looked at him then, their eyes meeting and holding each other for a long while. "Your eyes are like rain clouds," she said at last. His breath caught in his mouth and he looked at her with that melting expression again. She took him in her arms and kissed him. Kisses led to caresses, and just when Clio thought clothing was about to be shed he pulled away.

"It's getting late," he said, breathing heavily. "Nox will be wondering where her cookie is." She didn't argue. He escorted her back to her room, and this time she had him hold the cookie in his palm. The dog growled only once before slinking up very warily and taking the cookie. She didn't wait until she was on the other side of the desk before eating it, devouring it this time just a few feet away from him on the rug.

Remus started his weekly dementor lessons with Potter the next night. He would tell Clio how they went afterwards, usually with a drink beside the fire but sometimes walking on the grounds if the weather was clear. It became clear to her that he was very fond of Harry, and also that Remus still keenly felt the deaths of James and Lily. The boy was making progress with his patronus, but after a month still had a ways to go. Clio felt a knot loosen within her stomach each time Remus regretfully informed her that Potter needed more time with the boggart. She thought she had come up with a solution to her own boggart, but wasn't at all anxious to try it out.

They were both kept busy with their regular classwork, and Clio with the photo lab, where she spent each Monday and Wednesday evening. She spent a significant number of hours sprawled out in her office or Charity's, alternating between grading, talking and strumming her guitar. Sometimes Aurora and even Pomona would join them. Their grading sessions typically grew more raucous and less productive whenever the herbology teacher joined in.

Nox had soon grown accustomed to Remus bringing her cookies in the evening, and within a few weeks would let him sit down in her office without growling. Clio began leaving the door to her inner chamber open, and had him walk through it each time he visited. After the third week he could stand in her room without Nox growling, though she watched him suspiciously from her bed.

Their time together inevitably ended with him remarking that it was late, that he was tired. She resolved not to press him, though the wanting drove her to spend an increasing amount of time fantasizing about him. She found herself fighting distraction during classes, meals, walks with Nox, lab hours, office hours, while she was trying to fall asleep and just about any other time when she wasn't actually in his arms.

She didn't notice when Snape began to avoid her in the halls and staffroom, and barely registered that he no longer popped into the photo lab to harass her. Her research into the names Snape had given her, as well as the Department of Mysteries, languished as her obsessive mind was occupied elsewhere.  
>After a month, Nox would let Remus sit in a chair beside the fireplace and accompany them on walks, and would even follow them into his own office if he carried a cookie. Clio touched him as often as she could in the dog's presence, claiming that seeing this affection would help her get used to him and taking full advantage of the situation.<p>

As the moon waxed towards full, she found that he grew more bold, his kisses raining down on her like a tempest, leaving her breathless and exhilarated. One such session almost came to an end when, in his excitement, he lightly bit her lip. As soon as it happened he pulled back from her, eyes wide with fright.  
>"I'm sorry," he started to say, but was cut off when she bit him back, blazing a trail of gentle nips and kisses from his mouth to his ear. They play-wrestled on the couch, clothing falling askew and hands and mouths roaming over the skin that found itself exposed.<p>

That ended up being their last evening together before the full moon. Even with the wolfsbane potion, he would feel ill for several days leading up to his transformation. His appetite suppressed by the potion, he'd often skip meals to try and catch up on the sleep that he missed out on at night. She was tempted to ask whether she might stay with him when he transformed, to comfort him, but resisted. She felt sure that his answer would be no.

He wasn't at breakfast the day after the full moon, or at lunch. When she finally saw him at dinner he seemed distant once again, barely acknowledging her as he walked past her at the staff table. Charity noticed immediately.

"Hey Clio, why don't you come to my office tonight to do girly stuff," she said.  
>"Girly stuff? I'm not exactly a girly kind of girl," Clio answered with a raised eyebrow.<p>

"Oh, I'm well aware of that. That's why it would be fun!"

Clio sighed, then plastered on a smile, "Okay."

Sequestered in Charity's private room later that night, Clio allowed her to experiment on her hair, face and nails with various glamour spells. Clio thought she was being prepared for a new career as a streetwalker when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, but just smiled politely and said that she liked what she'd done.

"Oh, don't lie to me, I know you hate it," Charity scolded.

"It's not that I hate it. I just wouldn't go out in public right now," Clio admitted.

"So how are things with you and Remus?" Charity asked, as she wiped the makeup away from Clio's face.

Clio laughed, "Wow, I was waiting for you to segue into that question-"

"No segue, I just threw it out there," Charity laughed in response, then turned deadly serious. "So?"

"Umm, it's been going really well," Clio said, then took a deep breath. "The full moons are really hard on him, even with the potion."

"I imagine he must feel helpless, ashamed, depressed even," Charity said.

"Yeah," Clio said, picking at her magically lengthened and elaborately decorated nails.

"Meanwhile, you feel anxious," Charity continued, batting Clio's hands away from her handiwork.

Clio nodded, "I wish there was something I could do to help him."

"Clio, honey, look at me," Charity said, sitting in the chair opposite her. Clio met her sympathetic blue eyes, wiping a tear from one of her own with the back of her hand. "You are helping him. He's been a lot happier over the last few weeks. Pomona even mentioned it the other day."

"He's been helping Harry with his dementor, I think that makes him happy," Clio said.

"I'm sure that's part of it," Charity said, squeezing her shoulder, "but I think a bigger part of it has been you."

Clio nodded.

"I'm giving him two more days to recover, and then if he's still giving you the cold shoulder I will personally kick his ass for not appreciating you."

Clio managed a half smile and Charity wrapped her in a sisterly hug.

Clio looked down at her nails. "If I can keep from biting these off, then they'll actually help with my fingerpicking," she said.

"Fingerpicking?" Charity asked, looking confused.

"On the guitar," Clio answered.

"Oh! I thought for a second that was some kinky thing that I hadn't heard of," Charity laughed.

Remus caught up with Clio as she left her office the next morning, and apologized for ignoring her the previous day.

"It's okay," she said. "I understand that you weren't feeling well."

He nodded sadly. She looked around to make sure the corridor was empty, then stood on tip-toe to give him a kiss. Charity smiled when they walked into the great hall together a few minutes later, a short distance between them maintained solely for propriety's sake.

Drier, more mild weather gradually replaced the wet winter as the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw approached.


	13. Dark Was The Night

The weather for Gryffindor's match against Ravenclaw was the complete opposite of November's match versus Hufflepuff. The day dawned cool and clear. Though the ground was still frozen, Clio smelled spring approaching on the air when she took Nox out for her morning walk.

The moon was several days past its full phase, so when she walked out to the quidditch stands this time, Remus was at her side. Her red and yellow hat was pulled down over her ears, and her lion-paw mittens covered her hands. She left the paw of her left mitten unfastened so that they could hold hands. The sleeves of their cloaks hung low enough to conceal their entwined fingers, so that only the few people who knew to look could guess that they were together.

They settled just behind Professor McGonagall, who once again attempted to keep a reign on Lee Jordan's commentary. Today she harangued him for advertising Potter's magnificent new firebolt. Professors Flitwick, Vector and Sinistra (all decked out in Ravenclaw blue and bronze) sat together to their left. Hagrid sat on Clio's right, the wooden bench sinking under his weight so that whenever he clapped his hands or stomped his feet, Clio found herself falling into his armpit. They all stood when the Gryffindor team filed onto the field. Remus dropped her hand, and when they sat down again he slid his arm inside her cloak and around her waist to pull her close. Charity, sitting on Hagrid's other side, passed around her flask, flashing Clio a subtle wink while Hagrid was distracted. Clio had filled her flask with mead and the sweet wine contrasted agreeably with the firewhiskey's burn.

The team captains shook hands and the match began. Despite the flasks and camaraderie, the air around the staff crackled with tension. There'd been no more trouble from the dementors, but their eyes continually scanned the sky. Neither Clio nor Remus paid much attention to the Chasers, focusing instead on the two seekers. The strategy of the tiny Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang, was apparently to block Potter from catching the snitch rather than racing after it herself. They were soon locked in a duel of flight ability.

"It'd be interesting to see them on equal brooms," Aurora remarked.

"Harry's being too polite, I think," Clio said, as he swerved to avoid a collision, simultaneously passing on an opportunity to catch the snitch. They all heard Gryffindor's team captain shout at him from the goal. Meanwhile, the trio of Ravenclaw professors applauded.

"He doesn't want to risk knocking her off her broom," Remus said.

"He's nicer than I am," Clio said with a grin.

"I think we're witnessing the Cho Chang Effect again," Charity said. "Cedric Diggory fell victim to it during the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match that you both missed."

Clio, Hagrid and Remus all laughed. "Another quidditch seeker falls victim to the Cho Chang Effect," Clio said, taking another swig from her flask.

A collective gasp went up from the Ravenclaw contingent as Potter faked a dive for the snitch, fooling Chang into following him. He pulled out of the dive at the last second, showing off his broom's superior speed and maneuverability.

"Or maybe not!" Hagrid cheered, beaming.

"That hardly seems fair!" Septima squealed, while the Gryffindors all whooped and clapped, Clio and Hagrid cheering with them.

"Aren't we at least supposed to pretend to remain neutral?" Remus asked mildly.

"They started it," Clio shrugged. "At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"You know, for someone who came here not even knowing the rules, you've become fairly rabid," said Charity.

"You all must be rubbing off on me. Soon I'll be drinking tea instead of coffee.'"

"You've already started drinking _tea_," Charity said, winking at her again while Remus intensely watched the sky. Clio gave her the stink eye.

A sudden commotion on the field interrupted their exchange.

"Dementors!" someone yelled from higher up in the stands. A few others repeated the call. The staff rose as a unit, drawing wands and scanning the sky. It was bright and clear, not a dementor in sight.

"Down there!" Charity said, pointing to the field where two tall figures in flapping black cloaks had appeared. Several students screamed.

"There's something odd about those dementors," Clio murmured. They didn't look spectral enough, and moved clumsily along the ground rather than gliding on the air. She also didn't feel any of the usual coldness that accompanied their presence.

"Those aren't dementors," Flitwick said.

"Clio, look!" Remus shouted happily, grabbing her arm and pointing up at the sky, where a large silvery stag burst from Harry's wand. It charged straight down to the figures in black. Both turned to flee the assailing patronus, but their legs tangled with their cloaks and they fell to the ground. Clio laughed out loud when she saw several pairs of sneaker-soled feet sticking out from the robes and splayed out on the grass. Remus caught her up in a spontaneous hug that took her entirely by surprise, lifting her off her feet.

"What on earth is going on!" Profesor McGonagall shouted, already out of her seat and running down to the field. High above, Potter caught the snitch, and was instantly set upon by the rest of the Gryffindor team. The entire house stormed the field. Exhilarated, the staff ran with them. Clio almost lost Remus in the crush of bodies, until she felt his arm link with hers, reeling her in close.

"I want to go congratulate Harry!" he yelled, so that she could hear him over the crowd.

"Go, go! I'm going to check out the 'dementors.' I'll catch up with you," she yelled back. There were at least four students tangled up in a mass of black robes on the ground. She recognized Malfoy right away by his shock of white-blonde hair. Incensed, Professor McGonagall had immobilized them all with a leg-locker curse. She towered over them now, hands on hips, vein in her forehead throbbing, looking like she might explode. Clio found she could not stop laughing. She pulled her camera from a pocket in her cloak and began snapping pictures of the Slytherins trying and failing to disentangle themselves, McGonagall looming overhead. She captured the terrified looks on their faces when Professor Dumbledore strode up. She was still laughing, wiping tears from her face, when Remus found her again a few minutes later.

"Did you get pictures?" he asked.

"Of them," she said, gesturing to the disgraced Slytherins as Dumbledore marched them off to his office. "I'm sorry, I didn't get a picture of the patronus."

"That's all right."

"It was a buck, wasn't it?"

"A buck? Yes, a stag."

"What's the difference?"

"I'm not sure," he said, eyes shining with an intensity that set her stomach on fire.

"So, the match is over already, and here I cleared my entire day for it," she said, with a sly, crooked smile.

"Yes, I did as well," he responded, glancing around at the thinning crowd before continuing. "I do have one project I could use your help with, if you're willing."

"Sounds intriguing," she said, starting to walk back toward the castle. "I should take Nox out, first. She won't have to go out again for at least six hours."

His face flushed, "I'll meet you in my office, then."

They kissed for so long that Nox grew exhausted from chewing her bone, curled up on the rug next to the fire and fell fast asleep. Mouths caressed necks, ears, shoulders and collar bones. Hands wandered, unfastening buttons to explore the skin underneath. She felt the thin scars that criss-crossed his body from all the times that he'd clawed and bit at himself in wolf-form, and a thicker seam of scar tissue low on his belly. Clio's hands slid lower and lower, and she steeled herself for him to pull back and ask her to stop. His breath caught in his chest, but he never pulled away.

"Do you want to make love to me?" she asked.

He gazed at her with dilated pupils. When he didn't respond right away she continued working magic with her hands. "Yes," he answered finally. After another long pause he added, "Should we move to the bed?"

"Yes," she breathed between kisses.

She pulled him along with her as she stood up. They extinguished lights and shed clothing as they went.

"I have to warn you about about my scars," he said.

"It's okay, I know they're there," she purred.

"I just don't want you to be alarmed when you see them," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Alarmed? Haven't I shown you this?" she asked, pointing to a jagged line on her thumb. "I almost sliced the tip off while skinning a shrivel fig in potions class."

He smiled then, a little of the tension easing from his body. He finally relinquished his last stitch of clothing and leaned back, waiting for her reaction. She appraised his long, lean body and limbs. The light from the fire was barely enough to illuminate the ghostly white lines of scars marching up and down his arms and legs and across his belly.

"Honestly, it's not your scars that are making the biggest impression on me right now," she said, slipping out of her underwear. He was still smiling, but stopped her as she climbed on to the bed.

"Wait," he said, "we need protection."

"I've got that covered," she said.

"You're sure?"

"Madam Pomfrey keeps the hospital well stocked." Fear mingled with the desire in his eyes, even as he relented and let her join him. His entire body trembled, and she knew it was not from cold. She lay down next to him, and they faced each other on their sides.

"It's been a while," he said, stroking her hair.

"For me, too," she answered, daring to stroke his chest.

"We have different definitions of 'a while,'" he said.

"That's okay."

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, caressing her hair and cheek, then cupped her chin and tilted her mouth to his. She inched her body closer, laid a hand on his hip and, stroking it, pulled him toward her.

Their lovemaking began awkwardly, with her coaxing him on gently, needing to reassure him at every turn. After a few fumbling attempts, she pushed him gently onto his back and straddled him. He relinquished full control to her to take care of her needs, which she did with gusto, crying out his name. Persuading him to reveal his needs to her proved more difficult. At last, she traded places with him and let him turn her around, baffled at his reluctance to make such an undemanding request. He cupped her breasts from behind, whimpering and nipping at her shoulder as he climaxed. They collapsed together afterward, dizzy and numb, ears ringing.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" he asked some time later, still entwined with her.

Clio smiled. "Okay."

He got up and walked shakily to the bathroom. She dozed, waking only when he returned and brushed her lips with his.

"There's a fresh toothbrush and towels for you," he said.

His bathroom was warm and dark, like the rest of his living space. It was suspiciously neat, too, as if he'd gone through and done an emergency cleaning. The only evidence that a man had been there at all was the straight razor laying on a shelf just below the mirror. Clio washed up, also taking the opportunity to inspect the hickey that had formed on her shoulder where he bit her. Unlike the welts left by her hoover-like second boyfriend, it was small and discretely located.

They'd missed dinner, but while Clio was outside giving Nox one last chance to pee for the night, a house elf showed up with a tray. They shared it by the fire and returned to bed.

Laying close to sleep with Remus wrapped around her like a spoon, she felt completely safe.

Clio was jolted out of a deep sleep by a man's voice, roaring from somewhere above her. She sat up, finding herself in a strange bed in a strange room. Dumbledore's voice erupted again from the throat of a silver phoenix hovering just a few feet in front of her.

"Sirius Black has invaded the castle! Assemble at once!"

It wasn't until Remus, who had rolled away from her in his sleep, also sat up that she remembered where she was. Then it was just a few seconds longer before she realized that this was Dumbledore's patronus, and they were meant to assemble by his office.

"Fuck," Remus muttered under his breath. "Clio, come on, we need to get dressed," he said, accioing the clothes they'd left strewn on the floor to them in a pile. She frantically threw on underwear, pants, boots and shirt; she skipped the stockings and belt, and couldn't find her bra. They gripped their wands and ran for the door, not taking the time to consider that someone might see them bolt out of the same room. They also didn't consider that Nox might follow them, and the dog (wide awake as soon as the phoenix appeared) dashed through the door and down the corridor before either one could catch her. Their simultaneous arrival was mostly obscured by the general commotion as everyone converged on the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"Did the Headmaster also summon your dog?" Snape sneered, as Nox wove in and out of various pairs of legs, wriggling back and forth and wagging her tail.

"She snuck out the door behind me," Clio mumbled, then added as an afterthought, "She's got a good nose."

Nox sniffed the floor intently, now, circling around towards the stairs and looking back over her shoulder at Clio as if to check that she was following.

Dumbledore momentarily stopped assigning floors for everyone to check and watched the dog. She stood with her front paws on the stairs, wagging her tail.

"Clio, follow Nox. Severus, go with her." Snape sighed audibly and murmured something about babysitting under his breath. Clio ignored him and strode off toward Nox, who shot up the staircase as soon as she started moving.

"We can switch assignments, Severus, if it's that distasteful to you," Remus said, "You can search the second and third floors with Charity, instead." Charity made a face behind Snape's back at the suggestion.

"Or Charity can go with Clio," he quickly amended.

Snape's eyes slid over Remus and up the stairs to where Clio waited on the landing above, Nox circling around her, then back to Remus.

"No, the Headmaster has given his orders, and I will follow them," he said silkily, then flowed up the stairs to where Nox had picked up the trail again.

"She's been catching people's cats and rats and toads all year," Clio said in the dog's defense, trotting to keep up with her. Snape stalked behind, scowling.

"Fantastic. She's probably leading us to the Weasleys' rat right now."

They followed her through a few turns, and Clio tried to hide her disappointment when the dog's nose led them to the statue of a one-eyed, hump-backed witch. Nox circled the statue, wagged her tail and barked, clearly pleased with herself.

"Nox, are you sure?" Clio asked, glancing about the floor, hoping to at least turn up a clue.

"Are you expecting her to talk back?" Snape muttered.

Clio whirled on him, eyes blazing."Well, where would you look?"

Snape's eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch. "I would start with the dungeons." he said. There are many places to hide there; hidden entrances that very few know about."

"I combed through the dungeons with Filch the last time, we checked all the hidden routes," Clio's voice shook, and she turned toward the statue again. She hated showing her frustration to him, of all people. She could imagine the smirk on his face without looking.

"Ahh, you're upset that your runes have failed," he said silkily.

"They've never failed before," she insisted, scanning the doors that flanked the statue. He stood silent for a moment, contemplating the doors, the statue, the dog and the floor; then began looking for subtle hints of a disturbance as well.

Nox whined for attention, tail thumping against the statue of the one-eyed witch.

"There's nothing here," Snape said, eyeing the statue, "Not even a rat."

Clio sighed. "Why don't we check behind these doors?" They lit their wands and made a circuit of each room, starting from opposite ends and working their way to the middle, though it appeared obvious that they wouldn't find anything.

"Lupin was very eager to trade places with me," Snape said softly, breaking the silence.

"Why do you hate him so much?" Clio snapped back. "Is it just because he's a werewolf?"

"'Just because he's a werewolf?' That's enough for most people," he replied icily.

"Ignorant people," she muttered.

"Why do you trust him?" He asked coldly.

"He– Dumbledore trusts him."

"Dumbledore's been mistaken before."

Her eyes flashed angrily, "Dumbledore trusts you, doesn't he? One would think you'd be a little more sympathetic." She waited for a response for several long seconds.

"You weren't in school with him. You never saw him with his friend, Sirius Black."

"Guilt by association, then? Because one of his friends turned out to be a murderer means he must be, too?"

"It means I don't trust him."

"So, what about your school friends, have they all turned out to be upstanding citizens?"

"And the ones that haven't are in Azkaban, where they belong," he spat.

"Except for the ones who claimed that they'd been imperiused or confunded."

"I've never made that claim."

"He was friends with the Potters, too. And Pettigrew. Their deaths tore him apart."

"How poignant," he sneered, silky voice dripping with sarcasm. "His friends are all dead, and the only ones left alive are him and the murderer. That doesn't strike you as suspicious?"

"No, it's just … sad."

"Ahh, so you're fucking him out of pity, then," he said. "A philanthropy project, is he?"

Clio's eyes, having been widened in the dim light, now constricted into fiery lines. Before her wand even had a chance to heat up, her right hand flew forward and slapped him hard across the face. He saw it coming, but didn't so much as flinch. He stared at her afterward, eyes like coal in the dark.

For a moment, Clio was sure that he was about to train his wand on her. Time slowed, and a frosty calm settled over her. If only she could slap him every time she was angry; she wouldn't have to fight to control her wand so much. She didn't take her eyes off of his, refusing him the satisfaction of backing her down. Then he lifted one of his own hands to the red print that remained on his white cheek and wordlessly wiped it away.

There were voices out in the corridor. The classroom was obviously empty, so Clio walked back towards the door. She turned to glare at him again just before opening it.

"You're an asshole," she hissed, letting the door slam in Snape's face as she exited to the hallway, which Charity and Remus were inspecting per their assignment. He slithered out a second later, face an unreadable mask.

"Find anything?" Charity asked. Remus was contemplating the statue of the one-eyed witch, which Nox had refused to leave even after they'd entered the classrooms. Her tail thumped rhythmically against the base while Remus frowned at it, brow furrowed.

"No," Clio answered, moving to stand close by her friend, who eyed Snape suspiciously.

"Clio," Remus said, not looking up from the statue. "Maybe you should cast some runes around the statue, just in case."

"In case what, the statue moves?" Charity laughed.

"Just humor me," he sighed.

"I'll have to make them more specific," Clio murmured.

"How do you mean?"

"The other runes I made were supposed to stop anyone who intended harm. They don't seem to have done any good, but maybe I just need to target Black specifically?"

"Why would that make any difference?" Snape asked coldly.

She shrugged, "Every building is unique. What works in one place may not work in another. The older the building, the richer its history, the more idiosyncrasies develop."

"Try it," Remus said.

She drew the runes for Black's name on the floor around the statue, then traced a glowing circle around it with her wand. She sang the protective incantation softly as she went, repeating it as she retraced the circle. The others fidgeted while they waited for her to finish.

"Done," she said at last. Their assignments completed, they started off down the corridor toward the stairs. Charity, Clio, and Remus walked side-by-side, Nox trotting at their heels, while Snape strode on ahead. At the stairs he looked back once more, reserving an especially hostile glare for Remus before swiftly disappearing.

"Well, this has been a fun evening," Charity said lightly, then leaned closer to Clio and added, "I bet you enjoyed searching the empty classrooms with him."  
>"It was a blast," Clio replied. Remus was curiously silent, eyes cast down at the floor. "Are you okay?" Clio whispered to him.<p>

"I'm just tired," he snapped irritably, then sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out that way."

It was almost dawn by the time that they had all assembled again by Dumbledore's office. Black had once again escaped without a trace.

"I believe he's receiving inside help," Snape said silkily.

"Of course he's been helped; he got the passwords from one of our own students!" Professor McGonagall barked, then began muttering expletives against Neville Longbottom under her breath.

"Can anyone recall seeing Professor Lupin this evening?" Snape asked coldly, and a hush fell over the crowd. "Can you account for your whereabouts during the time when Black would have been breaking in?" he sneered at Remus.

Remus tensed up at this, but said nothing, face frozen in a tightlipped smile. Snape glared at him, lip curling malevolently. Clio was about to confess that she could personally vouch for his whereabouts when Dumbledore caught her with his twinkling eyes, and then broke the silence.

"Now Severus, I can assure you beyond all doubt that Professor Lupin was sleeping contentedly in his bed when my patronus arrived to summon him. I saw him there as clearly as I see him trying to remain equanimous in the face of your baseless accusation now."

"You can see through your patronus' eyes?" Snape asked, caught off-guard. Clio was also taken aback. She'd never heard of anyone having that ability. It also meant that Dumbledore had seen her topless.

"Why yes, I can. If you doubt me, then I would be more than happy to tell everyone here exactly what you were doing earlier, as well." A few snickers bubbled out amid the assembled staff, and Snape's face paled to a deathly white.

"That won't be necessary," he murmured.

"Good, then it's settled." He clapped his hands together. "Since we're already up, who's hungry for breakfast? I could eat a few eggs. We can discuss our security problems over coffee in the staffroom once our bellies are full. " Then he turned and headed down the stairs.

Dumbledore didn't appear to have anything to say to her about Remus not being alone, so Clio took his eye contact as a sign of tacit approval. She relaxed, exchanging laughs with Charity, but Remus remained tense. He turned and followed Dumbledore down the stairs without looking at her.

After a subdued breakfast, they all reconvened in the staffroom where several people took Clio up on her offer of fresh coffee. Remus wouldn't meet her eyes when he accepted his cup. He muttered thanks and crossed the room to sit by Flitwick before she could say anything to him in return.

As expected, security would be reinforced again.

"I've hired a team of security trolls to patrol the Corridor outside Gryffindor tower," Dumbledore said. A few people sighed, but Dumbledore silenced them with a shake of his head. "These trolls are well-trained and relatively unobtrusive. You'll find them much preferable to dementors, I assure you."

"How unobtrusive can a 12-foot troll be?" Charity whispered to Clio out of the corner of her mouth.

Clio spied Professor Flitwick laying new charms on the doors around the castle throughout the day. She had been asked to lay protective runes with Filch again, who grumbled throughout the process that they were a waste of time. She made the new runes all specific to Black, thinking that perhaps Filch was right.

She didn't see Remus at all that day, and worried that he regretted the night they'd spent together. Refreshing the runes at least gave her something else to focus on, even if Filch's carping served as a constant reminder that her first set of runes had failed. The highlight of her day came unexpectedly, when she helped Filch replace Sir Cadogen's disgraced portrait with the fully-restored portrait of the Fat Lady. Clio gasped when Filch brought the painting out from his office.

"It's like it was never damaged!" she exclaimed. "You did this all yourself?"

He nodded stiffly, his usual frown looking somewhat less pronounced.

"If you ever get bored of Hogwarts, you could get a job at any museum you like. I don't think anyone in Alexandria could do a better restoration," she said. He puffed his chest out a little at this, and from then on he hardly ever glowered at her.

The Fat Lady wasn't nearly as thrilled to return to her post. She eyed the security trolls warily whenever they passed by.

Clio waved at Remus to gain his attention after dinner, but he disappeared from the table so quickly that it was almost as if he'd disapparated. She was fleetingly tempted to track him down, but also still had homework to grade, and so decided to visit Charity's room, instead. They worked mostly without talking; music playing softly in the background. Charity had long since given up on shaking her down for sexual details, and Clio was in no mood to offer them up voluntarily. She tried to concentrate on the translations and put him from her mind completely.

It was long past dark when Clio returned to her own room to fetch Nox for her last walk of the night. She stopped just outside her office door to throw on her cloak, while Nox ran off down the hallway, wagging her tail. She turned, and there he was, bending down to scratch the dog behind her ears. That familiar heat wave rolled up, unbidden, from her stomach to throat.

"Hey," she said, "I was wondering if I was going to see you at all today."

"Sorry," he said, "I've had a lot on my mind."

"Oh. I was just taking Nox out," she said, stomach dropping.

"Why don't I come with you?"

"Okay," she said.

"I just need to stop at my office and get my cloak."

"No problem."

They talked softly as they walked. He asked her about her runes, and she explained how they were supposed to work. She asked him if he'd seen the fat lady. He had, and agreed that the restoration was remarkable. Neither of them were especially fond of the trolls.

Their conversation halted outside, where the night air carried just the slightest promise of spring with it. The moon hadn't risen yet, and the sky was an inky black cloth sewn with billions of stars. They strolled casually down toward the lake, Nox running out ahead of them, black fur melding with the shadows. They stopped at the lakeside, shoulder to shoulder. There was no wind, and the glass-like surface perfectly reflected the stars. Clio tipped her head back to gaze up at the sky.

"I want this to work," he said, breaking the heavy silence that lay between them.

"I want this to work, too," she responded, relief flooding her so suddenly that she thought she might fall down or cry.

"I'm terrified of letting you down," he said, forehead creased with worry.

"How could you let me down?" she asked.

He laughed, "I'm sure there are many ways."

"I bet there aren't nearly as many as you think there are."

"Maybe not. Anyway, that's what I've been thinking about all day, that and … protecting Harry."

She nodded. "I was worried today that maybe I'd done something wrong."

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean like sleeping with a werewolf?"

She smiled. "No, like scaring off a werewolf."

"What?" he asked, head snapping up. "No, quite the opposite."

She sighed. "I'll understand if you need to be alone, sometimes."

"Will you?" he asked, brow furrowed.

She sighed again. "It would have been nice if you'd told me this morning."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes. Of course I do," she said, looking deep into his eyes.

"You know then, that I would never help Black break into the castle."

"Of course not. Snape was just trying to get under your skin."

"I'm not so sure that was his only goal," he said, eyes troubled. "Anyway, he obviously knows about us, that's not something he's likely to let go."

"Snape can sit on his wand and twirl, for all I care," she muttered.

He smiled. "That's an expression I've not heard before."

"Feel free to borrow it any time you like," she said, the corner of her mouth curving up.

"That reminds me," he said, taking a small jar of floo powder from his cloak. "Feel free to visit me through the floo any time, just give me a warning before you come through."

"What, so that I don't catch you in a state of undress?" she teased, fingers lingering on his as she accepted the jar.

"_That_ reminds me that I found some of your underthings in my room this afternoon," he responded.

"Oh yeah, can I come by to fetch them?"

"Of course," he said, then blushed as he added, "although I won't complain if you want to add to the collection."


	14. Just A Little Closer to Death

February bled into March, the weather growing warmer and wetter (though not any sunnier with the dementors' presence). After Harry's private lesson the next week, when he successfully produced a full patronus in the presence of his boggart, Remus stepped through the floo in Clio's office to tell her that he was ready to work on her boggart whenever she was.

She breathed out sharply. She knew this day had been coming, and after dreading it for the past couple of months was anxious to finally put it behind her. "How about tomorrow night?"

He cocked his head, "You're ready, then?"

"Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be," she sighed.

He smiled, "All right, 8:00 tomorrow night, my office."

She met him there a few minutes early, palms sweaty and stomach roiling. He told her that he would understand if she had changed her mind, but she shook her head, determined to get it over with. He dragged the packing case out on to his desk, then stepped hastily away.

"Stand right there," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor several feet from the front of the desk. "I'll open it from back here in the corner. Ready?"

She squared up with her feet shoulder width apart, raised her wand and formed the picture she wanted in her mind. Then she nodded.

"I have complete confidence in you," he said, then released the lid of the case. The paunchy middle-aged man rose up and burst into flames. The unseen girl began to scream.

"Riddikulus," Clio said defiantly. The man transformed into a teenage Henry dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. The flames shrank, now licking out from beneath the lid of a smoking cardboard pizza box. Henry stomped on the box with his stockinged foot, setting his sock alight, as well. One corner of her mouth lifted.

The child's scream resolved into a chorus of disembodied voices, including Clio's own, that shouted advice. "Henry, aguamenti!"

Snapping his fingers, Henry pulled his wand from the waistband of his shorts and pointed it at the box. Water poured from the tip, then suddenly water was pouring down everywhere as if there were a raincloud hanging just above his head. The flames died, leaving wisps of steam.

Clio laughed at both her memory of the incident and her re-creation of it, here, now. Remus laughed with her as the boggart disintegrated in a final puff of smoke. Clio stood stunned for a second, and then Remus caught her up in a tight embrace, kissing her fiercely.

"That was spectacular," he said.

"Thanks," she said, smiling.

"So was that another memory?"

She nodded.

"Tell me about it."

"I think it was my fifth year, so it would have been Henry's sixth. The incendio charm we used to try to heat up a pizza got out of control." She laughed. "Then the aguamenti charm he did to put the fire out got out of control, and the dorm was flooded and we all had to wait outside until the RAs could summon a professor to clear the water off."

"That may be the most elaborate setup for the riddikulus charm that I've ever witnessed."

"I've had a lot of time to prepare it," she said. "Thank you."

"That was all you," he insisted, his gray eyes shining with pride. "Now that you've done it once, you know how to do it again if you need to."

"I would never have dealt with it on my own," she said. She considered telling him the story behind her boggart, but faltered. The longer she didn't say anything the easier it was to just let it go. It would eat at the edges of her mind for awhile, and then fade away until the next time something happened to remind her of it.

If her troubled thoughts showed on her face, then he didn't acknowledge them. He kissed her again, perhaps to chase away her worries, then let her lead him to his private chamber where they undressed and fell into bed.

Their initial awkwardness had dissolved over the course of several nights, and now they began exploring all the different ways they had to elicit pleasure from each other. Clio found herself first squirming, then squealing at the magic he worked on her with his mouth and tongue. His reactions were quieter but no less impassioned when she repaid him in kind. They collapsed together afterward in a blissed-out daze, neither wanting to ruin the moment with unnecessary talk.

"So, your birthday is coming up," Clio said at last. Her head rested on his bare chest, and she listened to his heartbeat. One arm stretched across his belly, fingers tracing where it was intersected by the jagged scar. "How do you want to celebrate?"

His own arms were draped around her. He could barely feel her fingers on the numb scar tissue of his belly. Anywhere else would have tickled, but she'd found the one spot that didn't. He hadn't allowed anyone to touch this scar before, and now he discovered that it actually felt pleasant. His chest rose and fell with each deep, slow breath, and so much time passed after her question that she thought he had dozed off.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I haven't actually celebrated my birthday in a long time."

"Then we should do something special for it."

"It's not an especially momentous birthday, 34," he sighed. "It's just a reminder that I'm getting older."

She lay silent for a moment before responding, "You know, you're only as old as the woman you feel."

His chest shook with quiet laughter. "What?"

"That's Jenn's dad's favorite saying," she said with a chuckle.

"Hmm, he sounds like a wise man."

Clio laughed again, "So what do you want for your birthday? What's your birthday wish?"

"Aside from not being a werewolf?" he sighed.

"Oh Remus," she said, sitting up and looking down into his clear silvery eyes. "If I could wish for anything it would be for you to be happy."

"I am happy, with you," he breathed.

"And I'm happy with you," she replied.

"What does that happiness cost you, though?" he asked.

"Cost me? I don't understand." Her brow furrowed.

He pulled away from her and sat up as well. "My condition is a secret now, but what would happen if it got out? You need to think about how that would affect you."  
>"You know that doesn't bother me." Clio pulled her legs up to her chest, and hugged them with her arms.<p>

"I know," he answered sadly. They were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, now.

"Are we having an argument?" she asked.

"It's a difficult conversation. One that we need to have," he responded firmly.

"So what else needs to be said? We may as well get it all out there, now."

His jaw clenched at her frosty tone, and for a while he said nothing. Finally, he quietly asked, "What have you told your family? Your friends?"

"The ones I actually talk to? They know I have a boyfriend. His name is Remus Lupin. He's a professor at Hogwarts. He's a few years older than me." She paused for a moment. "I figure anything else is your business to tell them, or not, when you meet them."

"Meet them?" He sounded incredulous. "You want me to meet them."

"You've already met Henry. Jenn wants to meet you. A couple of my other friends in Alexandria want to meet you, too. My sister and grandmother want to meet you. My parents … my mom doesn't like any wizard, so I've never brought anyone home." She paused to take a deep breath before continuing. "I've been thinking we could do some traveling over the summer."

He sighed loudly, "When were you going to tell me this?"

"I was planning to ask you once we got closer to the end of the school year."

"How can I travel with you when I either have to come back here to take a potion for a week out every month, or be sequestered in a locked room? And spend up to a week recovering from it?"

"It's one week a month! We can work around that!" She didn't realize that she was yelling until the words were out of her mouth. She regretted her outburst as soon as saw his change in his expression, the light in his eyes dull, his body shrink farther away from her.

"I don't know that I'll be ready for that," he whispered.

"I'm not demanding a decision from you right now," she replied in a more reasonable tone. "Just think about it."

He stood up abruptly and walked away from her to the fire. He stared into it, his back turned toward her. She watched him for a moment before gathering her clothes and getting dressed.

"How did this turn into an argument?" she asked. He shook his head, remaining turned away from her as she finished dressing. Neither said anything more until she, having to walk past him to get to the fireplace to leave, stopped next to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Please don't be mad at me," she said.

He looked at her then, pain and shock in his pale eyes. "Clio, I'm not angry with you. I just need some time to think." He tried, unconvincingly, to smile.

Nothing more was mentioned of that summer, or travel or even of their discussion. Charity sensed that something had happened when Clio seemed unusually moody at breakfast the next day, but Clio insisted that everything was fine when asked. Her exchanges with Remus remained warm and affectionate as always, and the only time she worried at all was when she lay alone in bed at night, waiting for sleep that was uncharacteristically difficult in coming.

It was during these quiet, restless periods that her mind began to turn once again to her grandfather. She'd decided that her grandmother's unwillingness to talk about what he did at the Ministry was proof enough that he worked in the Department of Mysteries. Now she wondered what it was that he did there, and whether it had anything to do with why he was killed.

She remembered only bits and pieces of that day, but they repeated in an endless loop in her head. She was playing in the yard with Domino. He hadn't been there, and all at once he was. He said something to her that she didn't understand. Domino barked and snarled like he was suddenly possessed. A flash of light, and then he fell. Domino began to howl.

The old issues of the _Daily Prophet_ she dug up in the library were unsurprisingly silent on the subject, and she laughed at the tales of floating brains and planets in _The Quibbler. _Tired of being left out of her friend's thoughts, Charity pestered her one evening until Clio asked her what she knew about the Department of Mysteries. Charity didn't know any more than Vincent.

"Dumbledore would be the person to ask about that," Charity said. "If anyone knows what goes on there, he would."

"Yeah, I've thought about that," Clio said, hesitant to continue. "I'm not sure how to bring it up without saying too much."

"What do you mean?"

"I may not have been entirely forthcoming about why I wanted to teach at Hogwarts during my job interview."

"Who is?" Charity tutted. "Whatever it is you're hiding, it can't be that bad."

Clio sighed, "My grandfather is part of, a big part of, why I came to work here. I learned all I could about him in Alexandria, and as soon as I saw an opportunity in Britain I took it."

Charity's eyes widened. "You're here because you want to find out what happened to him?"

Clio shrugged, "Yeah, partially. Mostly. But I really like teaching. And, with everything else that's happened this year, he hasn't exactly been at the top of my priority list."

Charity tossed her hair and laughed, " Are you saying you've been too busy dealing with the dementors and the break ins and falling in love and actually trying to do your job? You should talk to Dumbledore. He'll understand."

Clio nodded. "Maybe I'll wait until after my end-of-year review. What's this about falling in love?"

Charity pierced her with her wide blue eyes. "Come on, I've seen how you look at him."

Although Remus insisted he wanted nothing for his birthday, Clio racked her brains to come up with something special to do for him. In the end, she baked him a cake using the finest chocolate available from Honeyduke's. The house-elves were reluctant to let her invade their kitchen, but acquiesced once she'd distributed a few bottles of butterbeer.

She surprised Remus with the cake in the middle of the day, while most of the school was out enjoying the early spring weather in Hogsmeade. After confirming that he was alone, she stepped through the floo wearing her cloak, with the cake in a box and her guitar slung over one shoulder.

"I know you said you didn't want anything, but I thought you should at least have a cake."

"You got me a cake?" he asked, eyes lighting up.

"I made it. So, I hope that it's edible."

"Chocolate?" he asked, sniffing the box.

"Of course. I have another surprise; I've actually mastered a couple of songs on the guitar. I thought you should be the first person to hear them. But only if you want." She set the cake box on the ottoman and propped her guitar up next to it.

"Absolutely," he said, smiling. "Are you cold?"

"No." she said, mouth curling up in its devious half smile.

"Oh. Then why do you have your cloak? Are we going somewhere?"

"No," she said, eyes sparkling. "Should I take it off?" she asked, already beginning to loosen the fastenings. His eyes grew large as she slipped one bare shoulder out of the cloak and he realized that she was wearing only underneath.

"Music first?" she asked, sitting down on the loveseat and balancing the guitar on her bare thighs.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, that would be nice," he said, sliding onto the seat next to her. She began with the Band of Centaurs song that had been the first to play on his music box at Christmas. Though she warned him not to judge her too harshly, she played it near perfectly, her voice making a fair approximation of the Centaurs' lead singer. Before the last chord had faded out, Remus was nuzzling her neck, hands prowling lower. Giggling, she set the guitar aside.

"Happy birthday," she said, tackling him and pulling him down with her onto the floor.

They were feeding each other chocolate cake one bite at a time when they were interrupted by Snape's angry voice projecting through the fireplace.

"Lupin! I want a word."

Remus swallowed the frosting he'd just licked off of her finger, and had just enough time to throw on his robes before he was sucked through the floo.

"Wait for me," he said as he disappeared.

She passed the time practicing the Django Reinhardt song that she'd learned just for him. When he walked through the door into his office some time later, it was in a completely different state than when he'd departed. He clutched a worn sheet of parchment, face pale and jaw tight. He paced back and forth until Clio ventured out to him.

"Remus, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said, staring at the floor.

"It doesn't seem like nothing."

He looked up at her and sighed, "Snape thinks Harry snuck into Hogsmeade."

"Did he?"

"I don't know for sure. Harry and Ron both claim 'no,' but..." he looked at the parchment in his hands.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Just part of a prank." He walked over to his desk, slid it into the top drawer, and locked it. He struggled with himself for a moment, unsure of what to tell her. "I had a talk with Harry, I don't think it will happen again." He remained standing, tense, pacing still and mind clearly elsewhere.

"Do you want any more cake?" she asked.

Her question seemed to jolt him back to the present.

"No, not right now. I'm sorry to spoil an otherwise wonderful afternoon," he sighed.

"You didn't spoil anything. If Snape were here right now I'd kick him in the nads."

He smiled weakly.

"Hagrid and Charity wanted to take you out for a drink later, and I think they invited a few other people. Are you up for that?"

He rubbed at his forehead, then said softly, "Yes, I'd like that."

"Are you sure? I can tell them you're not feeling well."

"No, that's not necessary. I just need some space for awhile."

She nodded, then picked up her guitar and made her exit through the floo.

The incident was swept from her mind when she ran into Hagrid while she was walking Nox a while later. Nox spied Fang near the pumpkin patch and ran down to harass him. Clio followed behind, stopping short when she came upon Hagrid, his arms circling Buckbeak's neck, sobs wracking his enormous shaggy body. Fang and Nox sat side-by-side, dour-faced and sad-eyed.

"Oh no, the trial was today, wasn't it?" A lump rose up in her throat as she realized that she didn't even need to ask him how it had gone.

He lifted his head. "They're gonna execute 'im," he bawled, eyes swollen nearly shut.

"I'm so sorry, Hagrid," she said. "Can't you appeal it? Is there anything I can do?"

"There's an appeal scheduled, but not until the day of the execution," he said, wiping his eyes on his hairy coat sleeves and blowing his nose on his shirt.

Clio hugged both Hagrid and Buckbeak, and then walked back up to the castle with a heavy heart.

The group that headed out to The Three Broomsticks later that evening was a somber one. Instead of toasting Remus, they all toasted Buckbeak. Remus actually seemed to be relieved to not be the focus of attention. Walking home later that night, it took several of them steadying Hagrid with the levitation charm to keep him from falling down.

Clio caught Remus putting away the folded square of old parchment when she came to visit him in his office a few times over the next weeks. She didn't ask him about it, figuring that he would tell her about it once he was ready. With so many other things to occupy their minds as the end of the term drew near, it was easy to overlook.

Everyone would face performance evaluations with Dumbledore at the end of the term. As probationary teaching staff, both of them and Hagrid also had to endure reviews by the four house heads. All four would observe at least one class period for each of them. Hagrid was the most frazzled out of the three, but none of them was looking forward to having Snape sit in on their class. Their only optimism came from the knowledge that Snape's appraisals of the three of them would also be included in his own performance evaluation with Dumbledore.

All staff were also allowed to submit comments about any other staff person that they wished, the one caveat being that these comments could not be anonymous. After talking over their prospects in the staffroom one day, the three of them pledged to submit positive comments on behalf of each other. Charity also promised to submit comments, though she assured them that Dumbledore would never deny a contract to anyone over petty grievances.

"Especially not DADA," she insisted. "Not now that we've actually got someone decent teaching it – I don't mean that you're just decent, Remus, you're excellent. I just mean that you'd only have to be decent to keep your job, no offense."

"None taken," he said, smiling vaguely.

"I mean, Gilderoy Fucking Lockhart, come on!" She continued. "We're all just glad that the curse is finally going to be broken."

Remus laughed nervously, "Don't jinx me, the year's not over, yet."

"I thought you weren't superstitious?" Clio said.

"I'm not, normally," he said quietly, "I just have a lot riding on this." His eyes met Clio's, and she nodded, thinking that she understood him perfectly. Hogwarts meant a lot to both of them, but to him it was everything.

She rapped her knuckles lightly on the side table nearest her. "Knock on wood," she said.

Remus started taking his monthly round of wolfsbane potion that night. Clio was watching the grindylow stuff chunk after chunk of apple into its mouth when Snape arrived with it.

"Thank you, Severus," Remus said, removing his arms from Clio's waist as Snape stalked into the room. He plunked the smoking goblet onto his desk, glowered at Clio (who smiled back) and stalked out again without a word.

Remus picked up the goblet and shuddered, holding his breath as he chugged its contents all at once. He shuddered again, covering his mouth with his hand as if he might be sick.

"What does that stuff taste like?" She asked.

"It's very bitter," he answered, after a brief hesitation. "It doesn't taste like it should even be edible."

"It's nice of him to give it to you right before dinner," she said sarcastically.

"I'm just grateful that he makes it at all," he quietly replied.

"Any word yet on whether he'll make it over the summer?"

"Dumbledore said he'd talk to him about it. If not … there are other options."

"Like what?"

"When I was a student here, there was a room where I used to be locked up each month."

She winced. "So that's plan B? Either way you'll be here?"

He nodded.

"Have you given any more thought to where you'd like to spend the rest of the summer?" she asked coyly.

"You don't give up easily, do you?" he said, then smiled the tiniest bit. She didn't respond, the pleading expression in her eyes doing all the talking for her. He sighed. "I suppose a little sun would do us both good."

She smiled broadly. "So you'll come with me to Egypt?"

"I think that would be all right," he said, smiling faintly.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look a little green."

"It's the potion. You can go ahead down, if you want. I may just get something from the kitchen later."

She nodded, then crossed over to him for a kiss. He turned his mouth away from her, and she settled for his cheek. She knew it was the potion and not her, but couldn't help worrying a little anyway.

They were sitting in his room the next evening, grading homework (she sitting with her legs curled under her on one side of the loveseat, and he on the other side with his legs stretched out on the ottoman) when she made an unusual request.

"Remus? This may sound like a weird request, but can I stay with you when you transform this month?"

He looked at her for a moment as if she'd just said something totally outrageous, but she just gazed back at him as if her question were perfectly reasonable.

"The transformation is horrible," he said, shaking his head. "I can't imagine why you would want to watch that."

"It's not that I want to watch it. I just want to know what you go through. I can keep you company."

He shook his head again. "I don't want you to see it."

"Okay," she said, shoulders sagging. "What about letting me keep you company, though?"

"After I transform?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah, I could come through the floo after the moon rises, and leave before it sets."

"I'm afraid it will be terribly boring. I usually just curl up and go to sleep."

She shrugged. "It couldn't be much different than hanging out with Nox."

He looked at the floor, shaking his head. "All right," he sighed.

"Really?" she said, smiling.

He looked at her and smiled faintly. She threw her arms around him and kissed his scruffy cheek.

"You're an odd one, Clio," he said. "Don't ever change."

Clio perched on her window seat with a book until she saw the full moon creeping up over the horizon, then waited another five minutes just to be sure. She was dressed in the tank shirt and loose pajama bottoms that she'd started wearing to bed after Black's second break-in. She'd better be prepared just in case Dumbledore summoned them all in the middle of night again, she thought. She gathered up some homework that needed grading and threw it and her book into her bag, then slung it and her guitar over her shoulder and whistled for Nox. The dog trotted up to her with a bone in her mouth. She scooped up the dog in one arm and stepped to the fireplace, reached into the jar of floo powder and tossed a pinch into the flames.

The fire flared green as she shouted, "Hey Remus, here I come." She waited for a few seconds for a response, then realized that that was pointless. What kind of response could he produce, other than a whimper or howl? She tossed a bigger handful of the powder into the flames and then stepped through. The room was quiet and seemingly empty. Nox squirmed in her arms.

"Remus?"

She heard the clicking of claws on the floorboards as he emerged hesitantly from the bathroom, an immense gray wolf with a short snout and thick tail that he carried tucked low. As he slunk into the light, she couldn't help noticing the thin hairless lines that criss-crossed his sides. Nox dropped her bone and barked a challenge. At least she was wagging her tail, and not growling or raising her hackles.

"Nox, if you don't behave you have to go back to your room," Clio said, setting the dog on the floor. She ran immediately forward to sniff Remus, tail held high, oblivious to the fact that his jaws could easily snap her neck. He gazed at Clio sheepishly as Nox circled him, sniffing him up and down. His eyes were the same silvery gray as always. She thought that she would like to run her hands through his fur.

"Has he passed inspection, Nox?" Clio asked sharply, rolling her eyes as the dog nosed his nether regions. His tail wagged half-heartedly as he walked up to the ottoman, nudging a large shallow bowl and then eyeing her.

"You drink out of this?" she asked. He wagged his tail again, staring at sadly. "I guess it's better than drinking out of the toilet."

She walked over to the ottoman and noticed the bottle of mead and a glass standing next to it. A smaller bottle of pain reliever stood next to the mead. She read the small print on the label.

"May cause drowsiness," she said, "I suppose you want a little of this tipped into your mead?" she asked, filling the bowl and then her glass with the drink. His tail wagged again as she poured a modest amount of the potion into the bowl, swirling it to mix it in.

"Yamas," she murmured, tipping her glass to him as he began lapping at his bowl. He was tall enough that he had to bend his neck to reach it, even with it sitting on the ottoman. He drained it before she'd made more than a dent in her glass.

She sat back on the loveseat and he eased into a sitting position on the floor next to her, looking her in the eyes. "I brought my guitar because I really need to practice if I want to get any better," she said, "I hope you don't mind." His tail thumped on the floor. "Okay. I have to warn you, though, that there are few things more annoying than listening to someone practicing the same song over and over again. Lucky for you I have scales to work on."

They regarded each other in silence for a moment, and then she reached out to him, placing one hand on either side of his head and stroking the soft grizzled fur on his cheeks. He closed his eyes as she ran her fingers over his ears, stretching them out and caressing each one from the base to the tip. She leaned forward and kissed him gently between his eyes, then sat back and picked up her guitar.

He sank to the floor at her feet while she played. Nox settled up against his side, holding her bone between her paws as she chewed. Clio worked through her scales before trying a few new songs, sometimes singing along but mostly not. When she did sing she alternated between English and Greek, recalling the folk songs she'd been lulled to sleep by as a small child.

She eventually felt his weight sag against her legs, and his breathing slow; and when she looked down saw that both he and Nox were fast asleep. She set the guitar down and shook him gently.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable on your bed?" she said when he opened one eye to look at her. He got up stiffly, and she followed him as he walked shakily to his bed and climbed in one leg at a time. Nox hung back, looking slightly put out, then jumped up onto the loveseat, turned around in a circle, plopped down and returned to sleep.

Remus stretched out with a groan. Clio watched him for a moment, then removed her slippers and dimmed the lights. She climbed quietly into bed behind him, laying against his back and wrapping her top arm around him, burying her face in the thick fur on the back of his neck. She stroked his side, feeling his heartbeat slow as he drifted off.

"S'agapo_,_ Remus," she whispered, his ear twitching at the tickle of her breath. She was asleep within moments of closing her eyes.

She was wakened by warm breath and a wet tongue on her cheek. It was still dark. "Nox, get down," she muttered, batting the dog away. The muzzle her hand came in contact with was too big be Nox, though, and covered in shaggier fur. She opened her eyes and saw Remus looking back at her.

"Hey," she said huskily, "Is it that time already?" He licked the side of her face again, from chin to ear. She sat up and stretched, then threw her arms around his neck. "How soon can I come back? A few minutes after moon set?"

He looked at her dolefully, and she returned his steady gaze. He relented with a single thump of his tail, and she kissed him once again between the eyes before sliding out of bed and scooping up Nox. She took the dog outside for an early morning pee. There were still stars in the sky, twinkling faintly, but the moon had already dipped behind the forest. She fed Nox, brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face before returning to Remus.

She found him burrowed under the bedcovers, looking pale and feverish. He opened his eyes at her approach.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked.

"No, thank you. I already took some more of the potion," he answered, before closing his eyes.

She hesitated for a moment by the bed.

"You can come back to bed, if you like," he said, eyes still closed. She climbed in behind him, careful not to bump his tender shoulders as she slid her arm around his side. He listened to her breathing slow, and when he was sure she was asleep murmured, "Love you, Clio," before slipping away himself.

She crept out soon after the sun came up, careful not to wake Remus, who stirred fretfully in his sleep. She had bathed, changed, taken Nox outside and was on her way to breakfast when Charity caught up with her.

"So how did it go last night?"

Clio smiled, "It was nice. Like sleeping with a large, shaggy dog."

Charity raised an eyebrow. "You mean that in the strictest literal sense, right?"

Clio rolled her eyes, "Yes, get your mind out of the gutter."

"Hey, you're one to talk," Charity retorted, "Miss Never-Met-a-Double-Entendre-She-Didn't-Like."

Clio didn't talk to Remus again until that night, when he stepped through the floo into her office to thank her for keeping him company. "What about next month?" she asked. "Same time, same station?"

He looked at her curiously for a moment, "Yes, that would be all right," he said, then smiled thinly. "Snape sat in on my fifth-year class today to evaluate it."

"Great timing on his part," she muttered. "How did it go?"

"Fine," he sighed, rubbing at his neck. "He did nothing but sneer at me the entire time, but that's nothing unusual. I would expect him to visit one of yours some time this week."

She nodded. "Thanks for the head's up. Will you break if I kiss you now?"

He smiled weakly, "No, that would be all right."


	15. Careful Or You'll Hurt Yourself

Snape slunk into her class of Gryffindor and Slytherin third-years two days later, settling into a seat in the very back just before her students began to arrive. He said nothing to Clio, so she continued to peruse her notes without acknowledging his presence. Most of the students did a double-take as they entered when they saw him sitting in the back of the room, but said nothing. Malfoy smirked, whispering something into the ear of fellow Slytherin Pansy Parkington that caused the pug-nosed girl to look at her and laugh. Clio ignored her.

As usual, Hermione Granger was one of the last to enter the room, looked harried and carrying an enormous load of books. She stopped at the front of the room to turn in a translation that she'd done for unnecessary extra credit.

"Why is Professor Snape here?" she whispered anxiously, lingering by the podium. Clio leaned closer to whisper back.

"He's here to evaluate me. Just pretend he's not even here." Granger glanced at Malfoy, who was still smirking, as she made her way to her seat.

Class proceeded as usual, the only difference being Snape's unwavering stare from the back of the room. Clio tried to ignore his presence, but found her eyes looking his way every now and then, just to confirm that he was still glowering at her. Yep. He didn't take notes, and she wondered if he was actually paying attention, or if he'd just completely checked out. Occasionally he would run one of his long thin hands over his mouth, a gesture that seemed to suggest that he was contemplating something she'd said or done; but maybe she was reading too much into the motion.

It was towards the end of class, just as she began to segue into their next assignment, that it happened. She had everyone pull out both _Spellman's Syllabary_ and the _Rune Dictionary _and turn to the respective definitions of the K-rune. _Spellman's _translated it as "ulcer" while the _Rune Dictionary_ translated it as "torch."

"Which is correct?" Granger asked.

Clio laughed. "I could tell you what _I_ think the correct translation is, but I want you to tell me. Your assignment is to pick one translation and write an essay on the history of the rune that makes a case for _why_ that translation is the correct one. I'm not interested in reading an essay about what you think I want you to believe. I'm interested in how you interpret the rune, based on careful reading and a review what we've been working on throughout the year."

There were a few groans around the room. "I'll give you a hint," Clio said. "The evidence you use to support your position may be more important than the translation you choose."  
>"Why can't you just tell us which one is correct?" Malfoy asked, lip curling in a very Snape-like fashion.<p>

"As my grandfather would say, 'I know nothing, except the fact of my ignorance,'" she said.

She had already turned away from him when Malfoy muttered something under his breath that momentarily stopped her heart. She didn't catch every word, but definitely heard "grandfather" and "killed."

"What was that about my grandfather?" she asked, turning the full force of her gaze on Malfoy. A hush fell over the room. He shifted in his seat under her scrutiny, then defiantly lifted his chin.

"I heard he was a fool who said the wrong things and got himself killed," he said out loud.

"And where did you hear that?" she asked calmly, her eyes narrowing.

He faltered, realizing in hindsight how far he'd stepped over her line.

Clio caught a tiny flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and shifted her gaze just enough to take in Snape, frowning and shaking his head at her almost imperceptibly. Bristling, she turned her full attention back to Malfoy.

"Perhaps you'd like to write an essay for me, that details everything you know about my grandfather. You can do it this evening, during detention."

"There's quidditch practice tonight," he drawled, knowing that Snape was watching both of them.

"Be glad then, that it's just practice you'll be missing and not your upcoming match," she said.

Malfoy squirmed in his seat and began to turn towards the back of the room, to enlist Snape's help, she assumed.

"Eyes forward, Malfoy," she snapped, stopping him before he could twist all the way around. He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him again before he could get a word out. "I suggest that you pay attention to the assignment I'm in the middle of explaining, unless you'd like to spend this Saturday in detention as well."

He shut his mouth and sat forward sulkily. Meanwhile, Snape's cold black eyes drilled holes into her skull. The remainder of class passed without incident; although Malfoy, Parkinson and several other Slytherins glared at her malevolently as they packed up their books to leave. Clio waited anxiously for Snape to corner her, and felt a knot in her chest loosen when he slipped out ahead of the students, instead.

"Detention, Malfoy, seven o'clock in my office," she said as the boy stalked out.

It was later that afternoon, while she was working in the photo lab, that Snape approached her.

"Professor Snape, what a surprise," she said, when he appeared in the doorway.

"Surely you're not actualy going to have Malfoy write an essay about your grandfather," he said.

"I haven't decided how to punish him, yet. Cleaning the hospital's bed pans is a tempting thought," she answered.

"I would advise against assigning any punishment that might attract the attention of his father."

"Like what?" she scoffed.

He was silent for a moment, thinking. "At this point? Anything."

She tutted softly, "I'm not going to just take it back."

"Then you should try to make the punishment relatively painless."

She scowled. When he didn't offer any options she asked the question that had been circling her brain all afternoon. "What if Lucius Malfoy actually knows something? What if he was … involved?"

"Then trying to squeeze information from his son would be not just stupid, but dangerous."

"Are you here to warn me, or threaten me?" she asked, drily, turning back to the counter that she'd been wiping down.

His eyes bored into the back of her head for a few moments before he turned and slunk back to his office.

She was sitting at her desk, paging through a family photo album when Draco Malfoy arrived at 6:58. All signs of the chip on his shoulder had vanished, and he looked at the floor as he handed her a letter written on fresh parchment, the ink still wet. Clio clenched her jaw as she took it, expecting to see some bullshit excuse from Snape that explained why Malfoy should be let off the hook.

Instead, it turned out that he'd written a formal apology. She skimmed through it quickly.

"When did you write this?" she asked.

"During dinner," he replied quietly.

She glanced at it again, then set it aside on her desk, pulling the photo album forward.

"This," she said, holding up a picture of a laughing, black-haired man, "is Ambrose Callimachus, my grandfather. He was murdered. I watched him die." Malfoy's face remained placid as he looked at the picture, betraying no emotion. At least it was better than smirking, she thought. "You are not allowed to mention my grandfather, ever. As far as you are concerned, I have no grandfather. If you ever mention his existence or, perish the thought, utter his name, to anyone, you will serve detention every night for a month. Do you understand?"

He looked as if he might protest for just a moment, then apparently thought better of it and nodded his head. She closed the photo album and placed it back on her desk. "Get out of here," she said. He nodded again, then turned and walked out.

Clio leaned against her desk for a minute, staring blankly at his apology, the letters blurring and running together before her eyes. She straightened up and set it down, then (unsure of where she was going) strode through her door and down the stairs. She paused at the second floor, but continued all the way down to the dungeon and marched all the way to Snape's door. It creaked open before her fist had rebounded from its third knock.

"Yes?" droned his silky voice from the darkened room beyond.

Clio pushed the door open wider. He stood on the far side of his office, rendered in chiaroscuro by the lamplight spilling out from his private chamber beyond. She could make out nothing about it other than he seemed to possess a great number of books.

"It'd be a lot easier to dismiss you as a total jerk-off if you'd quit it with the occasional halfway decent gestures," she blurted.

He blinked lazily. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Professor Callimachus," he said.

"No, of course not," she muttered.

"Is that all you came down here to say?" he asked.

"Yes, that's all," she answered, turning back the way she'd come. She heard his door click shut behind her as she stalked back up the corridor to the stairs.

Her remaining in-class evaluations breezed by in comparison. Even Professor McGonagall's stony countenance throughout the discussion of the essays that her third-years produced in response to that contentious class assignment felt like a walk through the park. Only a few had come to the conclusion she'd been looking for; that the meaning of the K-rune depended on the context, but no one failed the assignment completely.

The days leading up to the final quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin were in Remus' understated terms, "intense ones." They both had more discipline problems in their classroom that week than at any other point in the entire year. Clio confiscated several handfuls of dungbombs from Gryffindors who claimed that they were only carrying them for self defense, and took house points from a couple of Slytherins who she overheard plotting to jinx Potter's broom. The animosity between students from the two houses was palpable in the hallways and classrooms, and their attitudes spilled over to the staff, as well.

Professor McGonagall hurled a spectacular verbal assault against Snape one afternoon in the staffroom, scolding him for failing to control his house. Snape endured her chastisement with his usual cool detachment. Charity watched with open-mouthed glee, while Clio ducked behind the "Post Confessions" section of the _Daily Prophet_ to hide her smile. As usual, there were two cnfessions that she could have written herself, another two that could have been written by people she knew and one that made her wonder if the proper authorities should be notified.

Towards the end of McGonagall's tirade, Professor Sprout entered the room. She was so impressed by the vehemence of McGonagall's attack that she stood back and waited for her to finish rather than interrupting. McGonagall ended her speech with, "You need to learn to set a positive example for your students, like I do. The Gryffindors have all banded together to protect their players, but you don't see any of them picking fights with the Slytherins."

Her eyes bore into Snape's until he ducked his head and murmured, "Yes, Professor."

Exultant, she turned her attention to Professor Sprout. "Pomona, did you have something to say?"

Sprout cleared her throat before speaking. "I've just come from the hospital ward. One of the Gryffindor 4th-years challenged a 6th-year Slytherin to a duel in the greenhouse. They've both got leeks sprouting from their ears."

Clio faked a coughing fit to disguise her laughter, the newspaper shaking in her hands. McGonagall (temple throbbing and back held ramrod straight) turned and swept out of the room, Sprout just behind. After waiting to give them a significant head start, Snape followed. His lip curled and his eyes slid toward the two younger witches as they fell over one another laughing.

It was several minutes before their giggles had died down to the point where they could continue the conversation that had been interrupted by McGonagall's dressing down of Snape.

"So … what did you say his name was again?" Clio said, chuckling again. "I already forgot."

"His name's Derrick. He's really sweet."

"He's not anti-muggle?" Clio teased.

"Nope," Charity said, coloring slightly.

"What does he do?"

"Something with computers. I don't really understand it," Charity said in a low voice.

Clio lowered her voice as well. "He's a muggle?"

Charity nodded.

"How'd you meet him?"

"At Easter. I ran to the grocery around the corner from my parents' to pick up some of those Cadbury Crème Eggs … I love those things! Anyway, he was looking for mint jelly and we were both hopelessly lost and kept bumping into each other until I finally struck up a conversation."

Clio grinned. "That's so cute."

"Really? I thought you might … I didn't know how you'd react."

"Charity! Seriously? All I care about is if you're happy."

"Thanks. That means a lot to me."

"So when do I get to meet him?"

"Oh, eventually," she said, squirming just a little. "We haven't really got to that point, yet."

"You haven't told him you're a witch, yet?"

"It hasn't come up. He's very science and technology oriented."

Clio laughed. "Then you'll just have to prove it to him. I'm sure he'll suggest a scientific explanation for your abilities. It would be much worse if he were extremely religious."

"God, been there, done that," Charity mumbled, tossing her hair.

"Just promise me you won't wait too long," Clio said earnestly. "Anti-magic can be just as bad as anti-muggle."

Charity sighed. "I know you bash your parents all the time, but they're still together, right?"

"Yeah, but my father had to go muggle. Not everyone can tolerate muggle life. My sister had to get a divorce to escape it."

Charity nodded, then. "I will tell him, soon. If it lasts that long. Who knows? Then maybe we could do a double date with you and Remus."

Clio chuckled again. "Hey Derrick, guess what? I'm a witch! Come meet my werewolf friend." Her face lit up. "We can take him to Underworld. That would be a truly eye opening experience."

"I don't want to scare him off."

"If he stays, then you'll know he's the one."

"And here I thought I was the relationship expert," Charity said jokingly as she gathered her books and stood up. "I have to get to class, and so do you."

Clio glanced at her watch as she folded up her paper. "We've still got ten minutes. Let's go check out the leek-ear kids on the way."

The day of the match dawned warm and clear. Three-quarters of the stands were filled with spectators clad in red. Members of the other houses had grievances of their own against Slytherin, and so chose to root for Gryffindor as the lesser of two evils. Clio wore her old Mugbloods jersey under the scarlet hooded sweatshirt her sister had given her at Christmas.

"This is just like the final match between the Mugblood/Enoch Banana Alliance and the Jolly Rogers during my 7th year," she said to Charity.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Quodpot."

Charity rolled her eyes and handed her the firewhiskey flask. Like the students around them, the staff section was soon a little more riled up than usual. Remus eyed the flasks passing back and forth warily.

"Hey, look, Snape's wearing something other than black today," Clio said, pointing out his poison-green robes. Then she yelled loud enough for him to hear over the crowd, "Snape, did you reach into the wrong closet this morning, or are you just auditioning for _The Wizard of Oz_?"

"Little Red Riding Hood, didn't your grandmother tell you to avoid the Big Bad Wolf?" he responded with a sneer. She started to stand up, but Remus stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Let it go," he said, silvery eyes darkening for a moment, "It's not worth it."

"He pulled you into it! That was uncalled for," she huffed.

"He wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't insulted him first," he said.

"Oh … yeah," she murmured, "Sorry."

"Maybe lay off the firewhiskey today," he said quietly.

"Yeah, you're right," she said, tucking her own flask back into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Even without the firewhiskey, it was too easy to get carried away with the riotous mood of the crowd. To Charity, Malfoy represented everything that was most loathsome about Slytherin. He was rich, privileged, pureblood and bigoted. Hagrid could not put aside the fact that he was responsible for Buckbeak's upcoming execution. Clio disliked him for all of those reasons, but also couldn't help recalling the underlying insecurity that she detected in him during every single class. He hadn't dared to look her in the eye since his close brush with detention.

As the game progressed, the taunts back and forth between the fans in red and green became less good-natured. Clio assuaged her urges to join in by gently squeezing Remus' hand whenever she felt her blood begin to heat up. That didn't stop her from cheering for Harry on toward the snitch just as loudly as Charity and Hagrid.

Players from both sides fouled each other repeatedly, but the Slytherins' fouls became so egregious that McGonagall abandoned her efforts to remain unbiased. When Lee Jordan started swearing through his megaphone, she was swearing right along with him. As the match wore on, even Remus struggled to project his usual easygoing neutrality, and soon he was squeezing Clio's hand to keep his own emotions under control.

The euphoria that washed over the crowd when Harry came up with the snitch carried most of the staff, Snape notably excluded, all the way to Hagrid's cabin, where they celebrated quite loudly with a great number of firewhiskey sours. The sun was nearing the horizon when Clio and Remus stumbled back to the castle together, dropping Charity at her room before continuing on to Clio's and falling into bed.

"I think we've both had too much to drink," he said. That didn't stop him from undressing her, or from pulling her against him and making her scream. Later on as they lay together, bare skin aglow from the dying red sunlight streaming through the window, Clio confessed that she loved him.

"What?" he breathed, looking shaken.

"I love you, Remus," she repeated, smiling crookedly. "It's not the alcohol talking either. This is just the first time I've told you while you're awake to hear it."

He lay silent for a moment, letting her words sink in.

"I love you, Clio," he said at last. "It scares me, but I do."

"Look, if I can face a boggart then you can love me. I'm not nearly as scary as a boggart, am I?" she said, still smiling.

"No," he said softly.

"Why does it scare you?" she said, fingers brushing the scar on his belly.

"Because my kind … my kind don't usually live this way."

"My kind? What's with this 'my kind' talk? You're a wizard."

"I'm a werewolf," he said, brow furrowed.

"You have an illness that makes you grow a little more hair once a month."

"It does more than that. Werewolves have a hard enough time taking care of themselves. They don't fall in love, or get married … have children together."

"You're taking care of yourself just fine. And who said anything about getting married or having children?"

"Don't you want to?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Maybe someday," she said. "I'm in no hurry."

"I've never even considered it before," he said, still tense. "Without the wolfsbane potion it wouldn't be possible."

"There had to have been werewolves who settled down before it was invented."

"Really? If there were then they've kept their families very well hidden. I can't think of a single one who has successfully raised a family, out of every one I've met." he said.

She had to defer to him on that point. "But, you can get the potion now, so it is possible, right?" she asked.

"Yes, it's possible," he said after a long silence. "I never thought that I'd say that."

"How old were you when you bitten, Remus?" she asked softly, struck by a sudden thought.

"I was four," he said, voice shaking slightly.

"How did it happen?"

His face paled. "I was playing in the yard. My mother was calling for me, but I didn't listen. I kept running away from her. It was like a game; she'd call me back and I'd giggle and keep running until she caught me or froze me with her wand. Except this time she screamed and I kept running, anyway. He, the werewolf, came out of the woods. He moved so fast, she couldn't reach me in time. I remember her screaming. Then I was lying on my back, staring up at the moon and my stomach felt like it was burning."

He rubbed unconsciously at his belly, and Clio looked with new understanding at the long, ugly scar that crossed it. He shook his head and blinked back tears. "It was my fault. I should have listened to her," he said.

"You were four," she said. "How could anything have been your fault?" She wrapped her arms around him, coaxing him to rest his head on her shoulder. He buried his face in her long brown hair, breathing in pomegranate and letting his tears flow freely. "Both our lives shattered when we were four," she said, tears welling up in her own eyes. "We have that in common."

They held each other until they'd cried themselves out. His eyes were dry when they met hers again.  
>She smiled, "I love you, Remus. You make me happy and I want to make you happy, too."<p>

Her smile knocked down all of his defenses, and his pale eyes shone especially bright as he responded, "I love you Clio, and you do make me happy."

Long after she'd dozed off however, he stared up at the ceiling, brow creased with worry.

Spring transitioned to summer as another full moon came and went.

The final weeks of school leading up to exams were blissful ones. Clio and Remus spent their weekends together, shoring up their plans for the summer. They would spend the first two weeks of break in the Mediterranean, and return to Hogwarts a few days before the full moon. She needed to visit her family in America after their trip to Alexandria. He planned to spend the rest of the summer close to home, claiming that America was too far and that he wouldn't feel safe there.

She still wanted to introduce him to her friends from Salem, and a compromise presented itself when her friend Jenn sent a letter saying that they might all be coming visit in August to watch the Quiddtich World Cup. Another of the Mugbloods, Bernie, covered sports for the American wizarding paper _The_ _Sorcerers' Times__ and had scored a press pass. He thought he might be able to get tickets for the rest of them at a discount. _Clio wrote back with an offer to pay for everyone's tickets, since they had pitched in for her guitar. Jenn responded with a quick note that said simply:

"Your boyfriend already paid us back. We have to meet him, now. It would be lovely if you could arrange for a tent."

Clio confronted Remus with Jenn's note just before dinner that evening.

"So when were you planning to tell me that you paid for the entire guitar?" she asked.

He set the parchment he'd been looking at down on his desk and stood up. "Well, minus the 20 percent you put down originally," he said lightly. "Henry promised not to say anything about it."

"Jenn didn't promise anything, although she only told me because I offered to buy her tickets to the World Cup," she replied, walking up to him and staring at him intensely.

"Ahh."

"So, I'll buy your ticket, instead," she said, sliding her arms up his shoulders and around his neck.

"You don't have to do that," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

"Yes, yes I do," she said, kissing him back. Her sly, crooked smile made an appearance, "Will you come with me?"

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. "I guess I could." Dinner was almost over by the time they finally made it down to the great hall.

It was still up in the air as to whether he'd be able to get the wolfsbane potion over the summer or not. Dumbledore had already talked to Snape about it, and said that he was mulling it over. Clio rolled her eyes when she heard this, but tried to be nice to Snape, just in case it might help.

He had begun stopping by the photo lab again to insult her taste in music or men, clearly trying to bait her into an argument. She knew from the way he smirked at her that he suspected her motives for remaining cordial. She was never quite sure whether he was disappointed or pleased whenever she resisted his attempts to rile her up.

The one time she decided to strike first had more to do with his comment at the quidditch match than anything else. She'd happened to throw on her red hoodie to keep out the dungeon chill that day, and when he showed up to trash the new Merlin's Beard album she was listening to, decided to call him out.

"So why would a half-blood want to join the Death Eaters?" she asked, watching his sneer twist into a scowl.

"What?" he said flatly.

"_The Wizard of Oz_, _Little Red Riding Hood_," she said, tugging at her sweatshirt. "Those are both muggle stories. I can't imagine that many purebloods would be familiar with either one."

"Really? I can imagine many likely scenarios, such as attending a muggle studies class."

"Hmm, okay," she said lightly. "I suppose that if I really wanted to know I could just look it up," she added, then returned her full attention to the developing potion she was brewing.

"You wouldn't waste so much time cleaning if you weren't so sloppy with your potions," he said, then turned and walked out.

When she wasn't occupied with preparing her own exams, Clio accompanied Remus as he assembled an obstacle course complete with monsters for the DADA finals. In addition to helping him set up the course, she accompanied him to a nearby muggle battlefield to snare a few redcaps.

It had been nearly 250 years since the Battle of Culloden, but a healthy population of the bloodthirsty little demons still remained, living off of the blood of hapless tourists who came to gawk at the moor where more than 1500 Jacobites had been killed in an hour. The redcaps were easily subdued with simple charms, but one of them managed to bite her hand as she latched the crate they'd brought to transport them in.

"How did you manage to get bitten again?" Remus asked, sounding exasperated. When her eyelids flickered, hurt by his tone, he softened and said half-jokingly, "One day you're going to lose a finger."

She smiled grimly. "Then I guess I'll just have retire in order to spend more quality time with my remaining limbs," she said, as she pulled out her flask and poured a drop of dittany from it onto the wound.

"That's handy," he said.

"Yeah," she answered sullenly, "I figure it makes more sense to carry this around than booze."

"Don't be angry," he said, taking her hands in his. It was impossible for her to feel anything but love whenever he looked at her the way he was now. "Please, just be careful for me, so I don't have to worry so much."

Clio thought back to picking fights with Snape, volunteering to catch the grindylow and photographing the dementor. She supposed she could be reckless on occasion. She thought of the jagged scar on his belly. She supposed that someone who'd lost all his friends, and who'd been hurt himself, might worry more than most about her getting hurt.

She squeezed his hands. "I'll be careful, for you, I promise."


	16. I Smell A Rat

It just so happened that the final day of exams, the full moon and Buckbeak's appeal all fell on the same day. Clio had made plans to visit Hagrid that evening, either to celebrate or commiserate. She wasn't able to attend the appeal herself, but submitted several pictures of Buckbeak behaving docilely and adorably along with written testimony vouching for his sweet nature. She feared that nothing short of a miracle could save Buckbeak, now. When she ran into Hagrid that afternoon she could tell by his red, puffy eyes that a miracle had not come.

The execution was scheduled for sunset. Thankfully, Hagrid didn't ask her to attend. She would have felt guilty in refusing if he'd asked her to be there, but also knew she couldn't bear to watch. She was relieved when he told her that Dumbledore himself had volunteered to keep him company throughout the ordeal. She promised to come down as soon as it was over. Hagrid had asked to bury Buckbeak on the school grounds; that was the one request that the ministry granted.

Clio kissed Remus goodnight shortly after dinner. "I'll see you again after the moon rises, provided I'm not consoling Hagrid all night," she said.

"Don't rush," he replied, "I'm not going anywhere."

She returned to her office to work on grading the exams from that day, and set her work aside once she saw the sun settling on the horizon like a great flaming eye. She roused Nox, and the two of them went down first to the kitchens to fetch two bottles; one of wine and one of whiskey. They took their time walking down to Hagrid's cabin, so that the sun was well and truly down, the last streaks of magenta and orange fading from the sky, when they arrived. 

Buckbeak was gone from the pumpkin patch, but she could find no signs of blood or death. She knocked on Hagrid's door, and was almost bowled over when he swung it wide, tears streaming down his smiling face. Nox bounded inside and ran over to sniff Fang, who's tail thumped lazily on the floor. Hagrid grabbed Clio with one gigantic hand and reeled her into the cabin, crushing her against his belly in a bone-crushing hug.

"Clio! There's been a miracle! Beaky's escaped!" From the empty bottles on his table and the fumes on his breath, Clio guessed that he'd already been celebrating. He was only too glad to continue the party, so she uncorked the wine while he poured the entire bottle of whiskey into his pail-sized stein.

She quickly lost track of time as she drank first one glass of wine, then another, then finally began drinking straight from the bottle. The full moon was shining through the window when she finally staggered out of his cabin. Hagrid offered to walk her back to the castle, but she doubted that he was capable of walking that far without falling down, himself. At any rate, she had not seen the dementors on the school grounds in ages, and was feeling so good at the moment that she was confident she could cast the strongest patronus anyone had ever seen. She wished Hagrid a good night and then lurched out the door, stumbling down the stairs. She whistled for Nox, but no sound came out. Luckily, the dog was already running out ahead of her.

Nox ran in a winding pattern around the grounds, ears perked up, nose in the grass snuffling eagerly at the trail of some animal. Clio followed behind, her mind back in Remus' bed, wrapped in his arms and sunk into the depths of his silvery eyes. The dog suddenly shot off like a rocket after a familiar gray rat, presumably the animal she'd been trailing.

"Nox!" Clio called irritably, swaying after her. The dog stopped at an abandoned rabbit burrow where the rat had just disappeared. It would take Nox a while to realize that the burrow had a back exit under a bush several yards away, so Clio reeled over herself. The rat flew out of the hole. Her normally quick reflexes were dulled by the wine, and so her waiting hand closed a split second too late, missing it's tail by an inch.

"Shit," she muttered, as the rat disappeared into the night, Nox chasing after it. Clio's thoughts returned to Remus, feeling his gentle hands on her breasts and his playful nips at her neck; and was only interrupted from her reverie by a high-pitched whine from Nox. The dog had abandoned the chase, and was cowering with her ears flattened against her skull. Clio looked around (her eyes taking a while to catch up with her head), and spotted a giant bat floating in the air; a deeper shadow among shadows near the whomping willow. But that didn't appear to be the source off Nox's anxiety. An ill wind was blowing, and the temperature dropped. The dog crouched low to the ground, tail tucked between her legs. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Clio looked up. Dementors, dozens of them, maybe a hundred or more, glided high overhead.

"Nox, c'mre," Clio called to the dog, who was attempting to slink back to the castle, belly grazing the ground. Nox whined to her, but continued on. Clio took a step toward the batlike figure hanging in the air. What at first had looked like giant wings could be a black cloak.

"Nox, come," Clio commanded, taking a few shaky steps toward it. The dog stopped, but wouldn't follow. Clio reversed direction and picked the dog up, hugging her close to her chest to keep her from struggling out of her arms, and began walking resolutely toward what she was almost positive was a human figure cloaked in black. She felt the wind settle as she approached, and Nox stopped struggling. She looked up, and saw that the dementors had disappeared for the moment. Where they had gone, she wasn't sure. It looked like they had been heading toward the lake. She set the dog down in the grass, and she trotted along behind her for the last few steps to where Snape hung suspended unconscious in midair. Clio laughed at the utter bizarreness of the scene.

"Demittocorpus," she said, then winced as he dropped to the ground a little harder than she'd intended.

She would have trod on his wand if Nox hadn't found it first and tried to pick it up in her teeth. Clio grabbed the wand from the dog, getting it from her on the third try. It felt surprisingly light in her hand; like him it was dark and spare. She tucked it in a pocket of her robe and turned her attention to its incapacitated owner.

He lay slumped over on his side. She approached him las if he was an unpredictable dog; ready to jump back in case he turned on her, snarling. She knelt down by his head and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Nothing happened and (giggling despite the fact that she was growing increasingly worried) she shook him, gently at first then harder when he didn't react.

"Sev'rus, get up," she said. Still nothing. She pressed her hand to his neck, feeling the steady, slow beating of his heart. "So, you do have a heart," she muttered to herself, giggling again. Nox, meanwhile, had moved on to another figure laying sprawled in the grass that Clio had missed. The dog busily licked his hand, tail wagging.

Clio, recognizing the ginger hair, moved to the unconscious side of Ron Weasley. His mouth and eyelids hung open slightly, and he drooled in his unnatural sleep, but he was breathing normally. One leg was bandaged and looked painful. Leaving him stunned for now was probably kinder to him than trying to revive him would be.

"What the fuck happened here?" she muttered, her eyes sweeping the area as if it were a crime scene. They fell on Granger's squash-faced cat, collapsed in a heap but starting to move, yowling and hissing at Nox when her investigative nose got too close. Then she spotted another wand, this one coppery brown. She picked it up; it was Remus' wand. She tucked it into her belt, next to her own. The moon was up; where was he? There weren't any other bodies laying around that she could see.

Head and heart pounding, she turned back to the still unconscious Snape. She started to turn him over onto his back when she noticed the blood clotting his hair on the back of his head.

"I didn't drop you that hard," she said. She ran her hand lightly over his scalp and felt a large knot. Her fingers came away bloody. She had to get close to see the series of scrapes and scratches on his scalp. It looked like he'd been run through a cheese grater. Fighting an alcoholic haze, Clio reached into her robe, looking for her bottle of dittany. She found it in the second pocket she searched, and emptied half of it onto his head in an unsteady stream. She knelt to rub it in, making sure that it didn't just run off into the grass.

Snape stirred almost immediately, feeling a sympathetic hand tenderly caress his head where the knot had begun to recede, and imagined for a moment that it was Lily's touch he felt. When he opened his eyes, it was with bitter disappointment that he registered Clio's slightly unfocused brown eyes.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" he asked waspishly, then answered his own question. "You're intoxicated," he said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

She held his gaze. His dark eyes were as impenetrable as ever. "There were just a bunch of dementors in the area ..." she said, voice trailing off as her concern evaporated. He was obviously the same old Snape.

He suddenly realized where he was and what had occurred over the past hour. "Dementors? Where?" he demanded, jumping to his feet and then reeling as the world spun around him. She grabbed his left arm instinctively, but he just shook her off and straightened himself.

"It looked like they were heading for the lake," she said. They both looked off in that direction, but there was nothing unusual to see at the moment.

"Where's my wand?" he muttered, patting at the various pockets in his robes.

"Here," she said, taking it from her pocket, "I found it in the grass."

He took it from her with disdain, as if his wand had been picked up by an especially sticky and clumsy child.

"What happened to Ron Weasley?" she demanded, gesturing to the boy. Nox was now laying across his chest, rising and falling slightly with each breath. "Where's Remus?"

He scowled, and didn't answer. Just then, a mournful howl rose up from the forest. The fur on the dog's back bristled and a growl welled from deep in her throat. Clio's spine tingled at the eerie, strangely human sound. She turned to Snape.

"Is that ...?" she didn't have to finish her question, though.

"He didn't take his potion tonight," he said silkily. "I was right about him, he's been helping Sirius Black."

"Bullshit," she said, turning toward the sound, taking one step, then another toward the trees. She was jerked to a halt by Snape's hand, wrapped around her arm. She whipped around, eyes flashing.

"Don't you dare," he said with deadly calm, his face draining of all color. She jerked her arm, but his grip on her held.

"He's out there alone–"

"Even if you're too stupid to believe me about Black, you must know there's nothing you can do for him," he snapped.

Clio blinked back tears, knowing he was right and not wanting to.

"He won't know you," he said.

"Let me go," she said, pulling against his grip once more. His eyes roved over her face, taking in her clenched jaw, her quivering mouth and her tearful eyes. His gaze was cold and penetrating. She felt naked under his scrutiny.

"Only if you promise to take Weasley straight to the castle and fetch the Headmaster," he said. She stared at him defiantly for a long moment, neither one willing to drop their gaze. They felt a cold, ill wind toss their hair, and still they faced off. Nox whined and cowered between Clio's legs and, finally, she looked up. They both saw the dementors flee the lake, headed toward the school boundaries once again.

"Fine. I'll go," Clio said at last. He relinquished his grip on her arm. "What do I tell him?"

He'd already turned away from her, and was conjuring a stretcher to transport Weasley on.

"Tell him whatever you like," he muttered softly. Using her wand, she lifted the stretcher with Weasley on it and turned toward the castle. Snape strode off in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" She called after him.

"Down to the lake, to see who it is the dementors were so interested in."

Nox trotting at her heels and poor Ron Weasley floating just ahead of her, Clio trudged back up to the castle. She heard the werewolf's plaintive wail once more along the way, and this time let her tears pour freely. She took Weasley straight to the hospital wing, and was just telling Poppy that she needed to speak to Dumbledore when the Headmaster himself strode through the door. No longer quite so drunk but still a long way from sober, she described everything that she'd witnessed to the best of her ability.

"Thank you Clio," he said, smiling at her warmly. "There's no need for you to fret over Professor Lupin's safety. There's nothing in the forest that would care to tangle with a werewolf."

"Dumbledore, I need to know what's going on," she demanded.

"I believe we're both about to find out," he answered calmly.

That was when Fudge burst in. Clio had previously only seen the Minister in photographs. He was even shorter and pudgier in person, and his green bowler hat just looked ridiculous with those pointy purple boots.

"There you are Albus, I lost you for a moment-" he was saying, and then Snape burst in, floating an unconscious Harry, Hermione and a disheveled, emaciated man who he claimed was Sirius Black. Poppy refused to let Black stay in the same room as her other patients, so Professor Flitwick was summoned to look after him in his office. The story Snape spun of Black attacking and confunding everyone but him didn't sit well with Clio, especially the way he glossed over the fact that she'd found him unconscious. The element that really made her blood boil was when he again claimed that Remus had been assisting Black to get onto the school grounds.

"Bullshit!" she shouted, causing Snape to glower at her with narrowed eyes. Fudge just looked startled, as if he hadn't even noticed her presence until then.

"Who is this young lady, Albus?" he asked.

"This is Professor Clio Callimachus, Hogwarts' runemaster. I must say that I agree with her sentiments, however coarsely stated. I find it much more likely that Professor Lupin was attempting to protect the children."

"Well, where is he?" Fudge asked.

"Yes, where could he be?" Snape asked silkily. Clio glared at him, murder on her mind.

"He's taken ill at the moment, but I'm sure he'll be able to clear up some of this mess once he's feeling himself again," Dumbledore said. "In the meantime, I believe once Harry and Hermione have had a little time to recover they will be able to fill us in. Poor Ronald will be out for a while, I'm afraid."

"Surely you can't be serious," spat Snape.

Poppy was furious that so many people were filling her hospital with unnecessary chatter, and shooed everyone out into the corridor so she could look after her patients in peace. Dumbledore left to talk with Black himself. Clio stood silently with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes as she listened to Fudge fawn over Snape's heroics and Snape fawn over Fudge's authority.

"This whole nightmare will be over soon," Fudge said. "I've authorized the dementors to deliver their kiss to Black at midnight."

"I applaud your decisive action, Minister," Snape said. "Might I be allowed to witness it?"

"Why of course, you're the hero of the hour," Fudge replied.

Clio threw Snape dagger-filled glances any time Fudge wasn't looking. He resolutely ignored her, though she didn't think it was possible for him not to feel the barely contained rage that bubbled out of her. The heat from her wand burned her leg, and the calming ocean she imagined to quell it heaved and boiled.

When Dumbledore returned with a different account of events, it was Snape's turn to be outraged. Peter Pettigrew had been alive and in hiding for the past twelve years. Both Remus and Sirius Black had attempted to apprehend him that night, their efforts foiled by the dementors and Remus' illness. Dumbledore was careful to not mention the full moon. The one detail that caused Clio distress was the part about animagi.

"Did you say Pettigrew took the form of a rat?"

"Yes, he'd been hiding out with the Weasleys this whole time."

"Shit. Oh shit, oh fuck," she moaned, then began to cry again. "I saw that rat earlier and it got away. I let Pettigrew get away."

"It's all right, Clio. No one blames you," Dumbledore said gently.

"He could still be on the grounds. We have to go find him," she said, swiping tears from her eyes with her hands as she headed toward the stairs.

"I'm afraid he will be long gone by now," Dumbledore insisted. She wasn't listening though, and had already begun running. It was almost midnight, and she had no interest in sticking around to watch the dementors suck out Black's soul.

She took Nox back to the rabbit burrow where she'd last seen Pettigrew, lighting her way with her wand, hoping against reason that she would be able to see the rat's trail. Nox's sharp nose led her in a criss-cross pattern down to the school gates.

"Fuck," Clio muttered. He was gone. She looked at her watch. 12:01. It was too late for Black, anyway, he'd be nothing but an empty shell by now. She looked back toward the castle, listening for Remus' howl and scanning the sky for dementors but hearing and seeing nothing. The night was too still and quiet: storms would be much more fitting. She almost wished for a tornado to sweep everything away, herself included.

A dark shadow crossed the moonlight, and she looked up in time to catch a glimpse of what looked like a hippogriff. "Buckbeak?" It was there for just an instant, then it was gone. She started back toward the castle, not sure whether to believe her eyes or not. Halfway back, she spied a figure in black heading toward her. She bristled at his approach. "What do you want?" she said.

"Black has escaped," he muttered.

"Let me guess," she said, an exhausted laugh escaping from her lungs. "He flew away on a hippogriff?"

He scowled at her, "I didn't see it happen. What do you know?"

"I thought I saw a hippogriff just now, and didn't know whether it was just my drunk imagination or not."

He glowered at her for a moment, then looked up at the sky. "Any sign of the rat?"

She sighed, "Nox followed its trail to the gate. He's gone. Why do you care?"

"Believe me, if that whole cock and bull story is true, than I want Pettigrew caught as much as anyone," he said icily.

"Why, so you can win some stupid medal?"

"The Order of Merlin–" he began, but she cut him off with an irritated chuff.

"I see how you operate. You roll over for anyone who's in power. It doesn't matter to you whether it's Dumbledore or Fudge or Voldemort. Just as long as you get what you want."

His face went completely white. "You have no idea..." he cut himself off, face twisting in what, astonishingly, looked like pain. She held his gaze until he dropped his eyes. For one shocking moment, Clio thought he might actually cry. Instead, he turned and began plodding back toward the castle. She followed a moment later, walking slowly to preserve a safe distance between them.

She paced back and forth across her room for much of that night, drinking water and waiting for the moon to set. It settled behind the treeline just as blue dawn was creeping into the eastern sky. She took Remus' wand and a bottle of mead down to the courtyard and sat on the stone railing to wait. She was beginning to nod off when his head appeared, floating in the air just to her left. Startled, she was instantly wide awake.

"Clio! Have you been here all night?" His eyes were bloodshot, and he lowered a silvery hood just enough for her to make out the fresh scratches on his face.

"No," she said, "just since the moon set. Is that an invisibility cloak?"

"Yes. It's a long story. I seem to have misplaced my robes, and without my wand I couldn't accio them."

"Here," she said, taking his wand from her belt and handing it toward the space where she thought his hand might be. "I found it last night on my way back from Hagrid's. That's a long story, as well."

One of his hands appeared in mid air to accept the wand from her, "Thank you," he said, eyes downcast. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and he pulled his away as if stung. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this. Although, believe it or not, I've looked worse."

"I brought you this as well," she said, handing him the mead, which she'd already opened for him. He smiled ruefully as he took it from her and tipped his head back for a long swig. "I was really worried for you," she continued.

He laughed bitterly, "A werewolf is on the loose, and the werewolf is the one who you're worried about."

"You're not just any werewolf, I couldn't help it," she said.

"I didn't bite anyone. I just … I just want you to know that."

"Of course you didn't bite anyone."

They sat together in silence for a while. She had a dozen questions for him, but sensed that this was not the right time to ask. He took a few more swigs of mead and then stood up.

"I probably smell terrible, I should get cleaned up," he said.

"I know someone who has an awesome bathtub, if you're interested in a warm bath."

"That's very tempting, but I need to be alone for awhile," he said, head hung low.

"Okay," she said, trying not to sound disappointed. Then she remembered one of the things she wanted to tell him that might cheer him up. "Hey, Buckbeak escaped last night, did you know?"

His head lifted, and a bit of the worry melted from his features. "Escaped?"

"Yeah, him and Black. I know he's innocent, now. I thought maybe you had something to do with it?"

"Not with Buckbeak. I suspect I know who did, though."

"You mean the trio of third-years who are currently resting in the hospital wing?"

Worry creased his face again. "They're in the hospital?"

"Weasley's leg was banged up a bit; the other two are recovering from the dementors that got onto the grounds. They're fine," she quickly added. "Perhaps a very powerful stag-shaped patronus came to their rescue."

A slow smile crept over his face, and it was like a ray of sunlight breaking through a storm-filled sky. He leaned forward and kissed her once, gently, on the lips.

"I'll see you at breakfast," he said, throwing the hood back over his head and disappearing again.


	17. No One's Gonna Love You

Breakfast that morning was surprisingly normal. Hagrid sat in his usual spot at the end of the table, shaggy head propped up on one meaty hand, the other curled around a particularly strong mug of coffee that he couldn't bring himself to drink. Clio wondered just how much firewhiskey he had to drink to get so wasted. Remus had made it, too, looking pale, exhausted and slightly troubled. The news of Buckbeak's escape had already gotten out, and Clio heard some sour rumblings coming from the general vicinity of Malfoy and his Slytherin friends.

Charity was energetically recounting her date with Derrick from the previous night, which had apparently gone well enough for her to begin planning introductions. Clio nodded along, her head turning often to look along the table to Remus, who would occasionally glance back at her. Snape glowered at both of them from his usual spot. This was nothing unusual, but Clio thought that his scorn felt especially potent today.

"So what did you do last night, other than celebrate with Hagrid?" Charity asked her suddenly.

"Oh, well …" Clio was at a loss as to what to say. Should she tell Charity the whole story? Dumbledore hadn't asked her to keep it quiet, but somehow she felt that discretion was expected. Snape was biased, of course, but that didn't mean that anyone else would believe that Black was innocent. She wouldn't have believed it herself if she didn't have Remus' and Dumbledore's word.

"Nothing, really. I stumbled back up to the castle, chugged some water and went to bed." How many more lies would she tell her, Clio wondered, to cover up this first one? Someday, she hoped, she could come clean. If only she could track down that rat.

"No offense, but you look like hell," Charity said, laughing.

"I didn't sleep well, at all," Clio said. "I may try to sneak a nap in between developing my last roll of film and grading exams."

"You should bring you homework by my office later. I'll put on some of that muggle music you gave me. Nirvana should keep you awake."

"R.E.M., too … ironically," she said, smiling.

Snape left the staff table early. Clio paid no attention, at first. Her eyes were on Remus again, whose eyes followed Snape's progress to the middle of the Slytherin table, where he leaned over to whisper something to the prefects. Clio turned in time to see Snape's black eyes gleam gloatingly at Remus, his lip curling as he spoke. She didn't catch every word, but she distinctly heard "werewolf" and saw eyes widening; looks of horror, disgust and amusement breaking out among the Slytherins. She saw heads whipping around to stare at Remus, whose body had gone rigid, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Charity's jaw dropped. "Did he just say what I think he did?"

Remus jumped up from the table, and hurried from the hall. The commotion that had started with the Slytherins spread from table to table. Clio jumped up herself, thinking to follow him.

"Clio! Wait," Charity said, grabbing her sleeve. Clio shook her off. He was already gone, and now her attention shifted to Snape, who was walking toward the door. She stalked after him, not caring who saw or what they assumed. His strides were long, but she caught up to him just outside the doors, grabbing the back of his billowing robes to jerk him to a halt. He turned on her, inscrutable black eyes boring into hers.

"How could you?" she demanded.

"I told both him and the Headmaster that I could tolerate his presence as long as he took the wolfsbane potion," he said coldly. "Do you think I made it every month for his sake?"

"You're a selfish asshole!" she cried.

His voice was pure ice, "Yes, you've made it quite clear that I'm an asshole. But selfish? I've been protecting the whole school this year. He's been protecting Sirius Black."

Clio felt her wand heating up against her leg and smelled the smoke curling from its tip. She dropped her left hand to her hip to grab it. Snape followed her movements with his eyes, drawing his own wand as she fought to control the stream of jinxes that threatened to escape. She tried desperately to concentrate on the ocean. Instead, a thin jet of yellow flame shot out at him. He turned the flame aside with a sharp flick of his own wand; transforming it to water that splashed harmlessly across the floor.

Her eyes widened in horror. "I didn't mean it," she gasped, then whirled and fled. She ran without thinking where she was going, only knowing that she needed to get as far away from him as possible. He contemplated her retreating figure for a moment, then turned and swept calmly down to the dungeons.

She circled the castle aimlessly to cool herself down; passing by the owlry, the statue of the hump-backed witch, the Fat Lady, the trophy room, the astronomy tower, the library, and Moaning Myrtle's washroom until she finally ended up outside Remus' office.

The door swung open before Clio had even knocked. She tread softly into the sun-streaked room. Remus was standing with his back to the door, pulling books off of a shelf and packing them into a battered old trunk.

"Hey, what's this?" she asked, heart dropping into the pit of her stomach. He stopped what he was doing, and turned slowly.

"Clio, I've resigned," he said somberly, eyes cast down.

"Why? Because of what happened at breakfast? Just because Snape had to be an asshole-"

"Clio, you have to know what will happen next. What parent would want a werewolf teaching their child? The complaints will start arriving tomorrow."

"Dumbledore will stand up for you," she said, crossing the room to his side.

"Dumbledore has enough to deal with," he sighed. "And you have to see that they have a point. I could have bitten someone. Harry … "

"But you didn't," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I couldn't live with myself if that happened," he gazed at her directly now, silvery eyes shining too brightly. He lifted her hand, kissed her palm, and then released it, stepping back out of her reach. "Severus took especial care to stop me outside the hall before breakfast this morning and tell me that you attempted to go into the forest looking for me last night."

"He exaggerates," Clio scoffed.

"Clio," he said, walking back toward the bookshelf and turning away from her. "I can't let you put yourself at risk for my sake."

"So you forgot to take your potion one night. You'll be extra careful from now on, right?"

"You're assuming that I'll even be able to get the potion."

"There are other potion maker's out there. Snape's not the only one."

"Not all of them will serve a werewolf."

"So we'll find one who will."

He turned back towards her, eyes red. "I won't encumber you with my burdens."

"What? What are you saying?" Clio's voice broke at the end of her question.

"I'm saying it's better for you if-"

"No, don't do this," she said shaking her head, tears springing up. He sighed heavily, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"Thank you for retrieving my wand. Thank you for … everything."

"No. I'm not ready to give up on you."

"I know."

"We can both leave," She laughed helplessly, the tears spilling from her eyes. "I might be sacked today, anyway, for almost setting Snape on fire after breakfast."

He looked at her curiously. "I have a feeling Dumbledore will be able to overlook that."

"Still. We could go anywhere. Alexandria or America, even."

"I'm not leaving Britain, Clio. This is where I belong. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I can live without Britain."

"You can live without me."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Haven't you thought about what your family will think when they find out about me?"

"I don't give a fuck about what my family thinks!" Clio shouted. The way he flinched made her instantly regret raising her voice.

He sighed, realizing that she was going to shoot down each and every one of his rational arguments. "I haven't been entirely honest with you," he said, voice trembling.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly, feeling her stomach drop again.

"Take a look at that map," he said, gesturing to the creased and worn piece of parchment laid out on his desk. She stepped closer and looked briefly at the map of the school, doing a double-take when she saw the hundreds of tiny dots, all labeled with people's names, moving around inside.

"This is amazing," she said, wide-eyed, "but what does this have to do with anything?"

"This is what Snape caught Harry with that afternoon when we were … celebrating my birthday. I pretended that it was nothing." His voice broke, but he continued, "But I knew all along. James and Sirius and Pettigrew and I made it when we were students here. I had been looking for it on the night we caught the boggart in Mr. Filch's office. It should have been locked up in one of those file cabinets, but someone else had found it, first."

She looked down at the map again, at their own dots standing in his office. "It's a bit of a violation of privacy, but otherwise it's brilliant," she whispered in awe. "Why hide it from me?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes as he said, "Fear. Shame." He began pointing out each of the secret passageways in and out of the castle. "I knew that Sirius knew about all of these ways into the castle, and I didn't tell anyone."

"Not even Dumbledore?"

"No, especially not Dumbledore. I was ashamed for betraying his trust, and afraid that he would fire me."

"For a map you made, what, 20 years ago?"

He sighed again, "It does seem silly in hindsight. There's more."

She shook her head, as if she could stop everything that was happening by will alone. "What are you trying to accomplish by telling me all this?"

"I need you to understand that I'm not worthy of your devotion," he said, looking up at her finally, tears streaming from his eyes. "I also knew all along that Sirius and Pettigrew are animagi, and I never told Dumbledore that, either."

"Pettigrew!" Her voice rose again, and she was powerless to control it, now. "You want to hear something to be ashamed of? I saw that fucking rat running loose on the grounds last night. I could have caught him, if I wasn't drunk. I sat drinking with Hagrid, totally oblivious that everything was going to shit around me!"

"You didn't know! It's not your fault."

"It's not your fault, either."

"But, Clio, it is," he insisted.

"You can't possibly believe that. So you made some mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. That doesn't change anything between us."

"Give it some time to sink in," he muttered hoarsely.

"You're ridiculous!" She cried. "You blame yourself for getting bit by a werewolf when you were four! You know what I did when I was four? I almost killed a man. My boggart? I burned him. He would have burned to death if my father hadn't seen the flames and come running."

He looked at her long and steadily. "This was after your grandfather was killed, I assume? You were grief-stricken and confused, an accident like that was practically inevitable," he said quietly.

"That's not … you just brushed that off like it's nothing!" The tears that poured from her eyes now were partially from relief at finally shedding that secret. "S 'agapó, Remus. I love you. Unconditionally."

He hung his head, and a wounded animal noise escaped his throat before he said hoarsely, "Clio, I've already made up my mind. Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Why should it be easy?" was her only rebuttal, as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

"Believe me, it's not," he said. He lifted his arms, as if he might wrap her up in them, but folded them across his chest instead. They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, neither looking at the other. It was a splash made by the grindylow in it's tank, swimming from one side to the other, that finally roused Clio from her melancholic trance.

"So, if you leave, what'll happen to the grindylow?" she asked, swiping the last of her tears from her eyes.

"He'll go back to the lake," Remus replied, voice rough.

She nodded, staring fixedly at the weeds swaying in the grindylow's wake. "You were right. He's definitely grown."

He nodded, eyes directed at the floor.

"Do you want me to release him for you?"

"All right." He cleared his throat. "Just … be careful."

He fetched the bag that she'd originally caught it in from a desk drawer and herded the grindylow into it with a slight sting, tying up the bag before it could escape. As he handed the wriggling sack to her, she took advantage of the opportunity to kiss him once more, on the corner of his mouth. He stood frozen in place until she backed away.

"We can still be friends, right?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, hesitantly.

"You know how to find me, then, if you ever need anything. Anything. I mean it."

He nodded mutely. She slung the grindylow over her shoulder and took a few steps toward the door before turning back to fix him in her memory just as he was; graying hair, shabby robes, care-worn face, rain cloud eyes and all.

"Bye, Remus," she said.

"Goodbye, Clio," he whispered, watching her walk out. After she left, he watched her progress on the map. Clio walked numbly to the lake, barely aware of her feet striking the ground. Without even thinking about where she was going, her steps led her to the same spot where she dove down to catch the little demon on Halloween. He saw her dot leave the castle and cross the grounds toward the same sunny spot where he'd sat and watched her dive. Then he returned to his packing.

She paused for a moment on the water's edge, then plunged in, boots and all, wading out to waist level. The water was still cold, even under the hot June sun. She stood for a moment, wand poised over the bag. Soon she could no longer feel her legs, and she imagined that she continued to walk into the lake, letting the water close over her head so that she could no longer feel anything at all.

Instead, she lowered the bag beneath the lake surface and slit a hole in it. The grindylow clung to the opposite side of the bag for a moment, frightened. She shook it gently until it shot out and away from her, toward the weedy depths where it had been born. She watched the ripples subside, then turned and waded back to the shore. The water in the bottoms of her boots squelched with each step.

"Hi Professor Calli!" Hagrid called. He was back to his old boisterous self, strolling jauntily toward her on his way around the lake.

"Hey," she said.

"Beau'iful day for a swim, I reckon," he said, eyeing her sopping boots and pants.

"Oh," she said, glancing down at her wet clothes. "I was actually just releasing Lupin's grindylow."

"Oh, that's right, I guess he won't be needin' it anymore this year."

"He's resigned," she said flatly.

"Oh yeah? That's too bad, I really liked the feller.' Can't say as I'm surprised, though."

"No?" Clio felt her mouth begin to tremble.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she insisted, shaking her head.

"You should bring Nox around later, you know, to play with Fang."

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you later," she said.

He nodded, then continued his jaunt along the lake.

Clio collapsed in a heap on the grass, wiping tears from her eyes. She covered her face with her arms and laid on the ground for a long time, feeling the cool earth beneath her and the hot sun beating down from above. The numbness had finally receded from her legs by the time she was able to pull herself up and walk back toward the castle. Her pants were still wet, and the fabric chafing against her skin became an irritation. With a word, she dried her pants and boots.

Once inside she wavered by the stairs, debating whether to go up or down, and finally decided to go back upstairs one more time. When she reached his office she found the door standing open. The room was empty, and she could see that he was gone for good. Correction, it was almost empty.

"Hey, Potter," she said to the doleful, dark-haired boy she found sitting there. He swiped at his eyes abashedly with a sleeve. "I guess he was in a hurry to leave, huh?"

He nodded, looking like he wanted to flee himself, out of embarrassment.

She nodded back. Feeling numb once again, she turned and walked wordlessly back to the stairs and headed down. The dungeons were pleasantly cool after the heat outdoors.

She saw light seeping out from under the door to Snape's office and stalked hurriedly past, hands clenching into fists. She didn't bother to light the photo lab, letting the darkness fold her inside it's cocoon. She tapped her music box and it began to play Band of Centaurs, a song about star-crossed lovers. She tapped it again and it switched to Merlin's Beard, a melancholy love song full of longing and regret. She sank to the floor, chest hitching with the first audible sobs. The music enveloped her in wave after wave of sorrow. She put her head down, letting it wash over her, allowing herself to drown.

At some point, she picked herself up from the floor and went to work developing her last roll of film, telling herself that it would be a waste of perfectly good film stock not to. She tried not to linger over the pictures of Remus mixed into the roll, telling herself they were assemblages of light and darkness, nothing more. She stopped occasionally to wipe tears from her face with her sleeves.

In his office, Snape heard snatches of plaintive voices and mournful guitars resonating with the dungeon walls. He sighed irritably, and, no longer able to concentrate on _Potions Annals_, stood up to leave. He wavered outside the door to the photo lab for a moment, then turned and swept along the hall and up the stairs for a walk. When he returned almost an hour later, the same music still played. He tossed his head back, fumed at the ceiling, and was about to knock when the music abruptly stopped.

The corridor was empty when Clio left the lab. She trudged until she found herself at Charity's door. It was open, as usual, and her friend tossed aside the latest _People _to envelop her in a hug.

"Oblivate me," Clio said, her voice muffled by Charity's shoulder.

"What?" Charity drew back, assessing her friend with a critical eye.

"Oblivate me, please. I don't want to remember anything from this entire year."

"You don't mean that."

"I do," Clio said, her voice flat and expressionless.

Charity regarded the emptiness in her eyes, and nodded. "Give me your wand," she said.

Clio hesitated for only a moment before taking it from her belt and handing it over.

Charity tucked it into a pocket of her own robes. "You can have it back once you've come to your senses."

Clio started to protest, and instead melted into sobs once again. "I should have listened to you. You tried to warn me," she said, once she'd regained the ability to speak.

"No, Clio, honey, you were right. You had to take a chance," Charity said, stroking her hair. Wordlessly, she performed a cheering charm. It seemed to have some effect, because Clio stopped crying.

"I could use a drink, at least, to forget temporarily," Clio said.

"That I can help you with," Charity said, summoning a bottle and set of glasses. Clio stoically sipped first one drink, then another. Charity told herself that this was an improvement over the uncontrolled crying, but she held on to Clio's wand until the next morning.


	18. That's All

End of year reviews were the last ordeal Clio had to survive before leaving school for the summer. Just a week before she'd been anticipating her review with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Now she didn't care. It would be a blessing, she thought, if she were asked to pack her bags and never return. Walking through the halls past his office, his classroom and all of the places where they'd shared secret kisses was torture now. Her guitar sat neglected in a corner. She couldn't bare to look at it, much less pick it up.

She cracked a smile on the day that the ecstatic letter arrived from her sister saying that, after nearly a year of unemployment, their father had found a job. The smile lasted for roughly three seconds. Then she thought of Remus without a job and had to blink back tears. She cried again the next day, when their tickets to the Quidditch World Cup arrived.

She numbed herself with alcohol each evening, and woke each morning with a throbbing head and roiling stomach. Twice she lurched to the second floor washroom between breakfast and her first class of the day to heave her coffee, all she could stomach, into Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

She pretended not to notice how coolly each and every witch on staff treated Snape. Had they all known about her and Remus the entire time, or had her reaction to his leaving given her away? Their solidarity might have meant something to her if she'd been in her right state of mind. At this point she didn't care. She cared for very little these days. It was her need to care for Nox that motivated her to get out of bed each morning, and not her professorial duties.

Finally, on the day of the end-of-year feast, Dumbledore summoned her to his office. Her trunk was already packed. Whether she would have a job in the fall or not, she was prepared to leave as soon as the feast concluded.

"Ahh, Professor Callimachus, please sit down," said the headmaster. He sat at his desk, with a plain file folder laid out in front of him. "Would you care for a lemon drop?" he asked, passing her the bowl from the edge of his desk.

"No thank you," she murmured.

"Well, let's begin with grade results. Your pass/fail rate was on par with last year. Judging by your grading rubrik, the difficulty level of your classes was slightly higher this year, which in my mind shows a bit of improvement. This year's NEWT and OWL results also showed a slight improvement. You've actually got your advanced students practicing some rudimentary magic with runes, which is most impressive."

Clio nodded mutely throughout his rundown of the goals that she had completed or made progress toward.

"Now, here are your peer assessments," he said, looking over his spectacles at a sheaf of papers he'd lifted from her folder.

"Professor Burbage says that you have a wonderful sense of humor both with students and staff and are very conscientious with grading. Professor Hagrid says that you have a good heart and solid head on your shoulders." She smiled weakly as he read these. He glanced at the next one, then up at her before skipping it and moving on to another glowing comment from Aurora.

"What about the one that you skipped?" she asked.

"Ah, well, I don't know if you want to hear that one just now."

"Is it bad?"

"No. It's from Professor Lupin."

"Oh," Clio felt her stomach tumble, then rise up into her throat. "I'd like to hear it," she sighed.

"He says that you treat your students patiently and respectfully and ..." he glanced over his spectacles at her brightly shining eyes and stopped reading, "Well, that's it, really," he said.

"Now, on to the assessments from our four heads of houses." Clio braced herself, fully expecting to hear harsh words from Professors McGonagall and Snape. Especially Snape.

"Professor Flitwick says that the class he observed on making runic amulets was a delight. He also appreciates your efforts to increase security with runes."

Clio breathed in sharply as he said this, then nodded solemnly.

"You know," Dumbledore added, "Sirius Black used a hidden entrance that you didn't know to protect with your first set of runes."

"So, my runes didn't necessarily fail," Clio said.

"That is correct," he said, smiling. Clio nodded and looked briefly at his kind eyes before letting her gaze return to her hands.

"Moving on, Professor Sprout says that you do a good job of making a dry subject interesting." He chuckled. "I'm afraid she's never been interested in runes. She also said that she likes how you coax the students from different houses to cooperate with each other. Professor McGonagall says that although you sometimes use inappropriate language, your teaching techniques are effective. She appreciates your novel approach."

Clio breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded again. Suprisingly, Professor McGonagall's approval still meant something.

"Finally, Professor Snape says that you are competent."

"Competent?" she asked blankly.

"Yes, well," and his mouth twisted into a tiny smile behind his beard, "That's about the highest praise one can typically expect from Professor Snape."

"He didn't mention anything about … having to put out a fire?" she asked.

Dumbledore raised one shaggy eyebrow. "No. He's mentioned several times that you are a bit reckless and overly nosy, but I don't recall hearing anything about a fire." He smiled warmly at her as he continued. "It must not have been significant enough for him to worry about."

"I guess not," she murmured.

"All four house heads have recommended you to continue teaching here at Hogwarts." He pulled a fresh contract from his desk, and handed her a quill to sign it with.

"Your probationary period is over, so if you agree to accept a full professorship, then you will receive a substantial pay raise." Clio glanced over the contract, her eyes popping out a bit when she saw what her new salary would be. Now that she no longer had to send money home to her family, she would have more than she knew what to do with. She rolled the quill between her fingers, staring blankly at the contract.

"Are you happy here, Clio?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Huh?" She was quite taken aback by his question. No employer had asked her that before. If he'd asked her the same question a week earlier she'd have answered with an emphatic, "Yes!" Now she couldn't imagine being happy ever again.

"Do you wish to stay?" he prodded.

"I like it here. I like teaching here." She felt tears welling up in her eyes. For the first time in weeks, she thought of her conversation with Charity about her original motivation for coming to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed at the deeply creased skin under his eyes, which looked smaller and more tired without their lenses. "Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it helps to make them more bearable," he said. "All of us are damaged in one way or another," he continued. "I know that's probably of little comfort to you now, but when you need to talk to someone, you will find them here, I guarantee it." She nodded numbly, then signed and dated the contract.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"Please, call me Dumbledore, or Albus. Either one is fine. Here, take a lemon drop, I promise it will make you feel a little bit better," he said, holding out the bowl once more. She took one to be polite, and put it in her mouth. The intense sweet and sour flavor that hit her tongue was like bright sunlight and laughter and the smell of rain after a long dry spell.

She took a deep breath as she rolled the candy over in her mouth. "Dumbledore, what do you know about the Department of Mysteries?"

"Ahh," he said, smiling. "I've been wondering when you would finally ask me that question."

She gaped at him dumbly.

"I'm afraid what I do know is infinitesimal compared to what I don't. Your grandfather would know more, although I believe he himself would have told you that there is much he was ignorant of. Yes, he did work there. Doing what, I do not know. I knew him by reputation only, I'm sorry to say."

She nodded, still stunned. "Thank you, Dumbledore. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"That's all. Don't waste this summer. It will pass quickly, and before you know it another school year will begin."

She nodded again and stood to go, holding her hand out for him to shake, "I'll see you at the end of August, then." He grabbed her hand in his surprisingly firm grip, then clasped her shoulder with his other arm. She had turned and was making her way to the door when he stopped her.

"There is one thing you can try to do for me, Clio," he said. She turned back.

"I know this is asking rather a lot, but if you could find it in your heart to forgive Professor Snape, I would appreciate it. I believe he would as well, though he'll likely never admit it."

"Forgive him?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes, I'm afraid I underestimated the depth of his … feelings for certain people. Some of his behavior has been reprehensible, but as I said before, all of us are damaged in one way or another."

She turned his words over in her head. "What's the likelihood of him ever apologizing to Remus?"

"Highly unlikely, I'm afraid," he said with a grimace.

Clio nodded; it was what she'd expected to hear. She headed down toward the photo lab to pack it up for the summer. Her mind replayed Dumbledore's words again and again, interspersed with the events from that horrible night. She turned them over in her mind, the gears turning and a theory beginning to take shape. She changed course and headed toward her classroom, instead.

She hadn't bothered with the cabinets in the back of the room since the beginning of the school year, but she remembered vaguely that they held records stretching back all the way to the school's founding. Finding the records for the past twenty years would be easy. She opened the last drawer and flipped back to 1973. There was the grade ledger and the seating chart. Her heart leapt when she saw the name Remus Lupin in ink, seated next to Lily Evans. They were friends, he'd said. He'd had a crush on her. _Lots_ of guys did, he'd said. And there, on the other side of Evans, sat Severus Snape. She flipped to 1974 and saw the same seating arrangement, and the next year, too. 1976 was when it changed. Lupin and Evans still sat together, but Snape was now farther back and to the side. He might have been able to watch them, or _her_, from where he sat.

She slid the records back into the cabinet and turned back to the photo lab. Her initial pain had begun to transition into anger, and today the head-splitting screech of metal on metal and heavily thunking bass line of Dragonhead poured from her music box. She raised the volume, little by little, to a nearly unbearable level. A miniscule ghost of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she imagined Snape fleeing his office, blood trickling from his ears.

Clio scoured the sinks and counters, not using magic and enjoying the mindless labor. It helped to burn the haze from her mind, and she found clarity for the first time in recent memory. She rinsed and dried every tool, putting them all in their places in the cabinets, then locked them away with runes to keep Peeves out.

Snape was waiting in the corridor when Clio emerged. She didn't bother to acknowledge his presence as she drew runes on the door to the lab, securing it for the summer. He was still standing there in the middle of the hallway when she turned to leave. She glared at him for a moment, and moved to the side to slip around him.

"Is that your revenge, then, making my ears bleed?" he said, gesturing to the music box in her hand.

"I'm not that easily satisfied," she said acidly.

He said nothing; just regarded her coldly with his dark eyes.

"So, apparently, you never mentioned the fire to Dumbledore," she said.

"That was a small, pathetic excuse for a fire," he said, lip curling. "If it weren't an accident I'd have ended up a little more well done, now wouldn't I? I told you you need to control your wand better."

She stared at him for a long moment. How the fuck did he manage to guess so correctly? "So, you'll give me the benefit of the doubt, but not him," she said.

"As far as I know you've never colluded with a murderer," he answered.

"Again with that," she muttered. "Just tell me that this wasn't all about some stupid prank from your school days. Tell me that you have some other reason for hating him so much."

"That's all," he said icily.

"Really? And that's why you hate Harry Potter, too? Because of a prank pulled by his _father_?"

"That's all. You can hate me all you want for it," he said, face going white.

"'That's all,'" she mimicked. "Then tell me this: what do you care if Black or Pettigrew killed people you hated?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, eyes like train tunnels, face as flat and unreadable as a mask.

"You're a small, pathetic excuse for a man," she said, the disgust in her voice palpable. "Why else would you hide your true motivation?" She turned and walked away from him toward the stairs.

"Stay out of others' personal business," he said after her, silky voice carrying softly up the stone corridor. She turned toward him, walking backwards.

"You might want to try following that advice yourself, next time," she said, then turned away and disappeared up the stairs. Ahead of her were two weeks of respite in the Mediterranean, after that she had work to do.

**_Author's Note: If anyone has actually made it to the end, then please be so kind as to leave a review. Please let me know if you spot any continuity errors. Sorry, not much closure, here. More stories are in the works, but it will be a while before anything new is posted._**

**_04/05/12: Thanks for the reviews and favorites! :) Still working on the sequel.  
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